Estimated reading time: 3 min.
I passed the Christmas nativity scene in our china cabinet and gazed at it wistfully. I reached in and switched on the twinkle lights. A soft glow lit up Mary holding baby Jesus, Joseph standing nobly by and the sheep looking on curiously. The Advent season had passed too quickly and it somehow didn’t feel finished.
“During Advent, we occupy our greatest longings,” writes Ruth Haley Barton. But what about after the tree is taken down, the Advent calendar completed and the Christmas village tucked safely in each cushioned box? What about our longings then?
Mine haven’t gone away. I still feel the ache of them. In a poignant Advent teaching this season, Bethany Allen startled me with these questions:
What are you waiting for? What is waiting doing to you?
She looked at the story of Anna, the prophetess who waited day and night in the Jewish temple, looking for the promised Messiah. She waited until she was 84! But while she waited she spent her time fasting and praying, communing with God in a way that helped her recognize Him immediately.
She waited a very long time. But how she waited changed her while she was waiting. In fact, Allen concluded, how you wait is just as important as what you’re waiting for.
How do I wait?
A few days ago my oldest son walked quietly up to my bedside and without a Hello, Mama or a Good Morning! asked, “Have you gotten the library books yet?”
He was waiting, and like me, it is often a persistent-nudging-pushing-kind of wait.
“No,” I replied wearily, “The library isn’t open at night, so they wouldn’t have texted me yet.”
We had ordered the next books in his favorite “Zoo Detectives” series (Dyrehagedetektivene) online the day before. He had asked me when he got home from school if I’d gotten the texts that they were ready to be picked up. He asked again before dinner and then before bed.
He asked again later that morning at breakfast and remembering Allen’s questions during Advent, I said, “It can be really hard to wait! How can you wait better?”
My husband, overhearing my question, asked, “Doesn’t Mr. Rogers have a song about waiting? How does it go?” He began humming and my son joined in. They sang the first verse together:
Let's think of something to do while we're waiting
While we're waiting for something new to do.
Let's try to think up a song while we're waiting
That's liberating and will be true to you.
As they finished, my son suddenly seemed inspired and hopped away to play with his younger brother. I seemed to have expected some surprising, ingenious answer when I had asked him how he could wait better. Later I realized I could have asked, “What animal would you write about if you could write the next ‘Zoo Detectives’ book? How would that mystery go?” In the empty space of waiting I could have blown on the coals of his imagination, helping his creativity to take spark.
After two more days of his questioning at regular intervals, I finally received the texts. Three of the four books were ready! I silently forwarded them to my husband, who picked the books up on his way home. I was in the back bedroom when I heard the surprised outburst. “YAY! Super!!” my son exclaimed joyously.
I smiled, thinking of the wait and the extra relief now that it was (almost) over.
There are many things I am still waiting for: relationships renewed, health restored, a vocation, consistent spiritual community, spring’s arrival (already!), that last library book, and the biggest wait of all – for all things to be put right. While I don’t have any detailed answers, I have some ideas, hints of things to fill those empty spaces.
I think it is worth contemplating: How am I waiting? Can how I wait change me, while I’m waiting?
I believe it can. And so, I’m taking Advent’s inspiration with me as I go into the New Year…
How will I wait?
_______________
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Hello".
I passed the Christmas nativity scene in our china cabinet and gazed at it wistfully. I reached in and switched on the twinkle lights. A soft glow lit up Mary holding baby Jesus, Joseph standing nobly by and the sheep looking on curiously. The Advent season had passed too quickly and it somehow didn’t feel finished.
“During Advent, we occupy our greatest longings,” writes Ruth Haley Barton. But what about after the tree is taken down, the Advent calendar completed and the Christmas village tucked safely in each cushioned box? What about our longings then?
Mine haven’t gone away. I still feel the ache of them. In a poignant Advent teaching this season, Bethany Allen startled me with these questions:
What are you waiting for? What is waiting doing to you?
She looked at the story of Anna, the prophetess who waited day and night in the Jewish temple, looking for the promised Messiah. She waited until she was 84! But while she waited she spent her time fasting and praying, communing with God in a way that helped her recognize Him immediately.
She waited a very long time. But how she waited changed her while she was waiting. In fact, Allen concluded, how you wait is just as important as what you’re waiting for.
How do I wait?
A few days ago my oldest son walked quietly up to my bedside and without a Hello, Mama or a Good Morning! asked, “Have you gotten the library books yet?”
He was waiting, and like me, it is often a persistent-nudging-pushing-kind of wait.
“No,” I replied wearily, “The library isn’t open at night, so they wouldn’t have texted me yet.”
We had ordered the next books in his favorite “Zoo Detectives” series (Dyrehagedetektivene) online the day before. He had asked me when he got home from school if I’d gotten the texts that they were ready to be picked up. He asked again before dinner and then before bed.
He asked again later that morning at breakfast and remembering Allen’s questions during Advent, I said, “It can be really hard to wait! How can you wait better?”
My husband, overhearing my question, asked, “Doesn’t Mr. Rogers have a song about waiting? How does it go?” He began humming and my son joined in. They sang the first verse together:
Let's think of something to do while we're waiting
While we're waiting for something new to do.
Let's try to think up a song while we're waiting
That's liberating and will be true to you.
As they finished, my son suddenly seemed inspired and hopped away to play with his younger brother. I seemed to have expected some surprising, ingenious answer when I had asked him how he could wait better. Later I realized I could have asked, “What animal would you write about if you could write the next ‘Zoo Detectives’ book? How would that mystery go?” In the empty space of waiting I could have blown on the coals of his imagination, helping his creativity to take spark.
After two more days of his questioning at regular intervals, I finally received the texts. Three of the four books were ready! I silently forwarded them to my husband, who picked the books up on his way home. I was in the back bedroom when I heard the surprised outburst. “YAY! Super!!” my son exclaimed joyously.
I smiled, thinking of the wait and the extra relief now that it was (almost) over.
There are many things I am still waiting for: relationships renewed, health restored, a vocation, consistent spiritual community, spring’s arrival (already!), that last library book, and the biggest wait of all – for all things to be put right. While I don’t have any detailed answers, I have some ideas, hints of things to fill those empty spaces.
I think it is worth contemplating: How am I waiting? Can how I wait change me, while I’m waiting?
I believe it can. And so, I’m taking Advent’s inspiration with me as I go into the New Year…
How will I wait?
_______________
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Hello".