Advent-ure

Pardon the goofy title. Advent is an adventure though -- it is so counter-culture. It’s all about pushing back the tidal wave of societal pressure to rush, to do, to buy… and instead carve out a way to just BE. It doesn’t fit with our lifestyle here in the West. Advent is about waiting, being quiet, longing for the Light.

Even without the frenzied “Twenty-one shopping days left until Christmas!” headlines on the evening news, throughout the rest of the year we still live by “to-do” lists half a mile long, multi-tasking, and crazy busyness. And before the last Thanksgiving dinner dish is washed and dried, the Christmas decorations are coming out. This year, in some neighborhoods near my home where apparently there is a contest to see whose house will win the most bedecked award, there appeared gargantuan inflatables and enough string lights to gratify the power company – and they were up around November 22nd. I had to look away when I drove by. Did Jesus really want this when He came down to earth as a babe of humble beginnings?

History and ritual play a part in our family’s celebrations of the seasons of the Christian year, or “sacred time” as a friend of mine has coined it. As believers have done since the sixth century, we try to lie low during at least the first part of December (despite having two birthdays occurring during the holidays – great family planning, huh?) and focus on the quiet preparatory aspects of the season. The liturgical year begins with Advent, and as we move through each of the year’s spiritual seasons, we participate in the drama that illustrates the story of our faith.

Many nights at dinner time, one of the children lights an Advent candle and says “Come Lord Jesus into our midst”. Much like the Jewish lighting of Shabbos candles to usher in the Sabbath each week, we invite God’s spirit to join us (and help keep peace with three boys) for our evening meal.

Also, among the many Christmas stories we read this month, we also revisit the Advent portion of a children’s book on keeping the seasons of the church year – mainly with my youngest son as the others feel too old. It’s a delightful, well-illustrated book called Come Worship with Me: A Journey through the Church Year.

It’s a story of a little mouse who narrates for the reader telling about his sacramental experiences at his church and what it means for his faith.

Finally, a new tradition we’re beginning this year is the daily lighting of the Cradle to Cross wreath created by Ann Voskamp’s son Caleb. We’re moving the figurine of Mary on the donkey forward a step each day and light candles in the holder that correspond with the days.

I listen to Early Music (meaning music from early times up to the Renaissance – 16^th century) in the car and often in the evenings by the fire. It takes me out of his century, this decade, this culture just for a bit and reminds me to see the world in the larger scope of history. I feel like I connect with people of ages past who lived in harsher circumstances yet struggled to find ways to live with meaning. Then I can return to the present with a greater sense of His presence.

All of these rituals allow us to use our senses to experience our faith and see God's promises through time season in and season out, walking through the cycles. These little things help us keep the pace of Advent, which is far slower than the secular Christmas holiday. We women especially fall in to a mad rat race, becoming burdened with the myriad tasks of baking, shopping, cleaning, shuttling, dressing, partying, decorating, entertaining, more shopping, volunteering in the classroom or church or the community, giving and more giving... It’s a production we mount for an entire month. Too much for a lot of us.  

  

Let’s slow down and listen and be, so we can rediscover the light in the darkness.

Linking up with Charity Singleton at Wide Open Spaces for the Advent writing project she’s hosting at The High Calling and with Laura Bogess at The Wellspring.

Embracing the Mundane as Sacred

I hear the sounds of yelling, uproarious laughter and thudding upstairs as the boys are wrestling...again. There will very likely be an injury; such an event is nearly a daily occurrence. Such is the life with boys. And such joy and abandon these kids still have that we adults have lost. I’m trying to learn to see the sacred in the mundane and be mindful in the midst of parenting chaos. Being “present” sounds so monastic, whether Buddhist or Christian or Hindu, but I aspire to progressing in that mental discipline. A very counterculture concept; there don’t seem to be many constructs in our western society that support and encourage this discipline.

So often I hear arguing and squabbling amongst my children, and what parent is motivated day after day to be “present” for that…again? I’d just as soon escape in some fashion. Live through enough of those repeated experiences and the escapism fantasy begins to kick in. I want to shut my bedroom door and lock it. I get on the computer and surf the web. I delve into a book or magazines. Or just lie down and close my eyes. Typical introvert. Worse still, I dive into the argument and try to “fix” it; that strategy doesn’t always end well as I’ve gone into battle already charged, hardly neutral.

Pausing to breathe through each event helps me stop short of reacting.

Rainy days – rain has become sacred in Atlanta. I can see rain as a beautiful gift from God now. The larger challenge is to be thankful in (notice I said “in”, not “for”) muggy, humid heat that I’m so totally over.

It’s tempting to just get “stuff done” when the children are occupied, but I wanted to capture the little person lost in the world of the game. More often it’s the world of Calvin and Hobbs.

Speaking of which, in this solitary game of Bananagrams my little guy was playing to keep himself occupied while everyone else in the house was busy with “older people work”, he spelled out ridiculously long words he’d read in his Calvin and Hobbs collection. Doesn’t even know what half of them mean.

The “transmogrifier” – a Calvin classic creation. Good for hiding, morphing, planning, eating breakfast, or becoming “a 500-story Gastropod – a slug the size of the Chrysler Building”.

Simple natural foods. A holy experience. I forgot the bowl of chocolate.

And on the subject of food, our middle guy is our chef, a true foodie. Baking with his apprentice.

Laundry and dishes? Harder to reconcile this work as sacred…but can I be mindful while doing it? I am reminded of how thankful I am to at least have my own washer, dryer and dishwasher. Recalling trips to the Laundromat in my singlehood brings gratefulness to my heart. Touching the children’s towels and clothes helps prompts me to smile at simple things like my youngest boy’s squishy little body, how my oldest is growing so tall. The slow, multi-step and sometimes plodding nature of this mundane domestic duty, when done mindfully, helps me slow down.

My teenager. ‘Nuff said. Gotta love him.

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Gardening – whether pruning, planting or watering – can never be done in a rush. It’s just not possible, neither is it healthy. It does however connect me with the earth. A great reminder of God’s creation.

Photographing these events, cataloguing their history. Do I want to be so “productive” with my tasks and achievements that I miss these sacred moments?

Many have gone before me who have learned to slow down, be intentional and celebrate the simple. Thankful to God for the gift of serenity.