"Light your candles quietly, such candles as you possess, wherever you are." alfred delp
tonight at sunset, the ceiling of the sky was lit up like a painting. the last of the light scalloped white and pale yellow on the edge of the clouds. it was wide open- like a summer sky- not the quiet, solemn sky of november.
this is one of my favorite paintings, and one of my favorite skies, during my favorite time of the year. christmas time. advent. the season of expectant waiting. the time to prepare for the coming of the Christ child- the birth of the one who came to bring restoration- wholeness to the parts.
next week if i were "home home", i would be digging out the little white lights and hanging them on the porch. i'd be finding the christmas music, unboxing the ornaments, and hanging up evergreens. i'd be waiting to watch my favorite movie of all time "it's a wonderful life"- and listen to handel's messiah.
being here, i feel like i need to prepare for the preparation. because i just don't feel ready. maybe it's the weather- that i was poolside this weekend. maybe it's that we're just settling in to life here. maybe because the shops aren't filled with fake snow and jingle bells and the radio doesn't play 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."
but it is the end of november whether the sky is cold and cloudy or still feeling like summer. so i'm trying to move into that place of expectant waiting, because i think here, with out all the external things to lean on- it might be a very different season- it might really be about the process of expectant waiting. of anticipatory hope. of being patient but assured.
i'm not good at waiting. and i don't like it.
at christmas time when i can get my mind off of the gifts and the TV specials and the holiday parties and the baking of cookies- i think most about Mary. about her expectant waiting. about her pondering. about how her life turned dramatically and she had no idea of how it happened and what the future looked like- but she was willing. expectant waiting implies a promise- it implies something has started and something else will be coming. it suggests hope. it requires patience. it demands trust.
i do a lot of waiting- we all do. waiting for things to turn around with our work, our marriages, our children, our health. waiting for our house to sell- our money to increase- to be older- for a promotion. but this season of waiting- is not with the expectation of anything specific. only fulfillment.
that is the kind of waiting i need to learn. especially with zoe. i need to wait, not on the specifics of her life, of her tasks, of her learning- i need to wait on the fulfillment of God's plan for her. i need to wait with out a preconceived notion of what that will look like. to wait yes, but also to live in the moments of my life with her.
in less than two weeks it will be the beginning of advent. and whatever the sky, and the air, and the light, i will still my soul. i will practice waiting. i will listen to 'the messiah' and live in that hope.
i will light my candles quietly.
tonight at sunset, the ceiling of the sky was lit up like a painting. the last of the light scalloped white and pale yellow on the edge of the clouds. it was wide open- like a summer sky- not the quiet, solemn sky of november.
this is one of my favorite paintings, and one of my favorite skies, during my favorite time of the year. christmas time. advent. the season of expectant waiting. the time to prepare for the coming of the Christ child- the birth of the one who came to bring restoration- wholeness to the parts.
next week if i were "home home", i would be digging out the little white lights and hanging them on the porch. i'd be finding the christmas music, unboxing the ornaments, and hanging up evergreens. i'd be waiting to watch my favorite movie of all time "it's a wonderful life"- and listen to handel's messiah.
being here, i feel like i need to prepare for the preparation. because i just don't feel ready. maybe it's the weather- that i was poolside this weekend. maybe it's that we're just settling in to life here. maybe because the shops aren't filled with fake snow and jingle bells and the radio doesn't play 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."
but it is the end of november whether the sky is cold and cloudy or still feeling like summer. so i'm trying to move into that place of expectant waiting, because i think here, with out all the external things to lean on- it might be a very different season- it might really be about the process of expectant waiting. of anticipatory hope. of being patient but assured.
i'm not good at waiting. and i don't like it.
at christmas time when i can get my mind off of the gifts and the TV specials and the holiday parties and the baking of cookies- i think most about Mary. about her expectant waiting. about her pondering. about how her life turned dramatically and she had no idea of how it happened and what the future looked like- but she was willing. expectant waiting implies a promise- it implies something has started and something else will be coming. it suggests hope. it requires patience. it demands trust.
i do a lot of waiting- we all do. waiting for things to turn around with our work, our marriages, our children, our health. waiting for our house to sell- our money to increase- to be older- for a promotion. but this season of waiting- is not with the expectation of anything specific. only fulfillment.
that is the kind of waiting i need to learn. especially with zoe. i need to wait, not on the specifics of her life, of her tasks, of her learning- i need to wait on the fulfillment of God's plan for her. i need to wait with out a preconceived notion of what that will look like. to wait yes, but also to live in the moments of my life with her.
in less than two weeks it will be the beginning of advent. and whatever the sky, and the air, and the light, i will still my soul. i will practice waiting. i will listen to 'the messiah' and live in that hope.
i will light my candles quietly.
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