I love this season, with all its wonder and magic. There’s a hush that falls over me as I drink in the presence of Christ and pause from the rush of every day life. I love the stillness of a winter night, when the Christmas tree glows with a soft light, and my heart calms in anticipation of the coming Savior.
This year is no exception to the above statement. There are moments of not-calm, when I forget the peace that passes all understanding and scramble for purchase in a sea of stressful circumstances. My pregnancy added hormones and ponderousness to my daily activities, which allowed for some meltdowns and craziness. I have two children who do not yet know the meaning of quiet rest. The only time they are ever still is when their bodies force them into slumber at night. It’s one of the most precious times in my day, though I do enjoy their laughter and energy. I wish I could join in their revelry, but this season of life is about conserving my energy for a big, momentous event. So they must frolic and play without their mother for a short while.
All in all, I enjoyed my Christmas. It was restful and my heart was at peace. We listened to our Advent (Adventures in Odyssey) episode, ate good food, and enjoyed time together as a family. We experienced the Nativity Story, which brought about interesting conversation with my daughter. Apparently, after watching two women (Elizabeth and Mary) deliver their newborn children, my daughter would like to be a daddy instead. She is convinced the pain of childbirth is not worth it, though I explained to her the reasons why she cannot be a daddy. She’s young and this will pass, I’m sure. I told her the pain was worth having three of my own children and being a mommy is still one of the best things in the world.
She’s still skeptical, and I don’t blame her.
My own child is coming soon. Every day, I experience more and more signals that tell me my body and the baby are preparing for the event. It does not move fast enough for me as the discomfort grows with each passing day. However, I know that part of this season of my life is about waiting. Patience and trust in a God who created the little being growing in my womb. He alone knows the hour of this child’s coming, and it will be at the appointed time, no matter what I do to attempt to speed up the process. I can hope and pray and wish for a certain hour or a certain day.
In the end, I am limited by my own humanness…finite and unknowing. Anticipation and celebration for a journey nearly complete. Those are my choices in this season.
Advent: Waiting, hoping, coming…