It seems appropriate to be writing about ‘yearning’ on the first day of Advent. For those less familiar with the liturgical calendar, Advent is the first season; a liturgical new year. Advent is a period of anticipation, of longing, of waiting for the Incarnation. The yearning to encounter God in the flesh.
I have had the privilege of being pregnant for two different Advent seasons. With each, I experienced the season of anticipation in a more tangible way. I felt connected to Mary and often wondered if she rubbed her tummy and sang the not-yet-seen child lullabies the same way I did. I wondered if she was simultaneously filled with hope and fear. Hope that this child would bring goodness to the world. Hope that this child would carry on legacy and tradition. And fear. Would I, as mother, be able to love unconditionally? Would I be the mother my child needed? Could I endure moments of being unable to protect them?
I longed to meet my children face to face. To finally see the foot that kicked the insides of my belly. This longing became a source of healing. I aggressively began preparing my heart and soul for the arrival of my children. I worked hard to clear away anger, harshness, and bitterness. I worked hard to soften my heart – to create a place of warmth, affection, and comfort I knew my children would need. I was preparing for my most sacred role of motherhood.
This Advent is a little different for me. In two weeks, my womb is being removed. We had decided two years ago that we were done having children, though nothing significant was done to prevent an ‘accidently excitement.’ Now, I am resolved to the fact that I will never again experience the excitement of pregnancy, though there is a grain of sadness that still resides. I credit my resolve to a new idea of gestation and birthing -- one that is not rooted in the physical, but rather in the spiritual.
Advent is the season of recognizing what we yearn for and preparing the soul for its arrival. I do not know about you, but I find myself yearning for grace, mercy, tenderness, justice, and hope. I find these things in the mystery of the Incarnation. God in the flesh, Jesus, loving the prostitutes, the broken, the blind, and the defenseless little children. Jesus frustrated with the leaders so focused on the rules that they missed the blessing. If I am honest, I can see myself in all of these conditions. Selling myself to the temptations of the culture, desperate to be healed, and convinced that my own goodness and rigidity will save me. I need the gift of the Incarnation. I yearn to be intimate with Jesus.
The irony is that in my preparations there is little that I can ‘do.’ Advent is calling me to a state of being – being open to grace, open to the longing. There are things I can do to cultivate the soil of my soul. I engage in Sacred reading (both Scripture and other hearty works). The kids and I made an Advent wreath and this morning lit our first candle. It sits on our dining room table and serves and a symbolic reminder that I am in the midst of a season of anticipation. I can confess my sins and allow the Grace to heal my soul.
I can wait. I can trust that something is gestating inside my soul and is about to be birthed.
And we will conclude with “Z” as in Zeal.
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