Advent is one of my favorite seasons on the Church calendar. It’s all about waiting and preparing. And I’m really good at one of those things. You want cookies baked for an entire classroom of kids? I’ll get the job done. Can I host 25 people in my home complete with gift bags, food, and a holiday-themed adult beverage? Yes, with my eyes closed. Oh, you need me to wrap all the gifts for everyone in the family? Check. I can clean, organize, and decorate with a gusto rarely seen in order to prepare for nearly anything. (It is not lost on me that none of the above have anything to do with preparing the way of the Lord… but let’s not get into semantics here.) It’s the waiting I have trouble with.

Lau Tzu once wrote, “Nature takes its time but everything is accomplished.” The earth does a lot of waiting. Seasons change slowly and more goes on beneath the soil and inside the flowers and leaves than the eye can see. There is much occurring as we anticipate the first snowfall or the last leaf dropping. It happens. But not quickly. In a similar way, Jesus comes to us in the New Testament… 1600 years after Moses. That’s a LOT of waiting. Yet he comes brilliantly and humbly in the arms of a young girl and her betrothed. In a small place. A city of caves.  

So we wait. And we prepare. But part of that preparation is deciding that Jesus has a place in our own heart. In our home. That can take some resetting. Some uncomfortable rearranging. Many of us, whether or not we admit it, are more like the Grinch than we are Saint Nicholas. We hold on to baggage from our past, have a difficult time forgiving, and isolate ourselves from the company of others in order to hide our weaknesses. Advent invites us to look at these things about ourselves and allow Jesus to transform whatever might be dark or lacking in joy.  

A woman I work with found out she had breast cancer last year. She decided to have a double mastectomy in order to give herself the best possible future and hopefully a longer, healthier life. On the day of surgery the nurse drew a heart in marker on of her breasts. When she asked what it was for, the nurse told her that it was to mark the side that had the cancer. It was interesting to me that she chose a heart to symbolize this thing inside my friend that was causing such pain and fear and sickness. And yet, months after the surgery, my friend has chosen to tattoo this heart back on her chest. I won’t guess as to what it means to her, but to me, it shows strength, health, and surrender. Surrender to God’s will and to His promise that He’s got this. It’s changed the way, this Advent, that I see the things in me that need healing and hope. That while I am far from being the person I was made to be, I can embrace the light even when surrounded by darkness. We wait…and we prepare. 

To be honest, and Reader, you may already have gathered this… I’m not great at the waiting or the preparing. I like my December to be filled with parties, cookies, presents, and eggnog. I don’t like my Advent to be all about making a space for the baby Jesus to be born anew in my heart. I am very much the type of Catholic that says, “I believe that Jesus was born, lived, and then died on the cross for my sins. And I thank Him. And I’ve got it from here.” You know, because controlling my own life has always proved to be successful (insert eye roll). So this Advent I’m going to T-R-Y. To slow down, to let nature do its thing slowly. To let my heart function as an instrument of peace and love and joy for all that is coming on Christmas Day. Preparing and waiting in the busyness of the season. Not getting caught up in my own image of what needs to happen during this time but allowing Jesus to find a home here with me… in my glorious mess.