For Now, We Wait: Finding Home 2.4
Is it a late November letter, or an early December letter? I'll let you decide. Welcome to this month's installment of Finding Home. I had good intentions to get a letter out to you last week, but we had family in town and Thanksgiving feasts to consume and then my body said, "nope, you're done" and accepted some cold germs. So that's a fun way to start Advent.
Thankfully, this is an email so you can't hear me coughing and croaking over here. But what you will find is a some thoughts on Advent traditions, a few of my favorite things to help you make way for Christmas, and a Christmas poem by Madeleine L'Engle that I randomly remembered the other day.
Merry Christmas! Unless you're a super liturgical nerd that won't accept that yet... then to you I say blessed Advent. ;)
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On the first day of Advent two years ago, I was crying at a sound board because the cello was making feedback I couldn’t kill. Or maybe that was one of many reasons.
On the first day of Advent two years ago, we were moving out of our first apartment to a nicer place down the road, an apartment in Chris’ family home. My mom and sister and Chris skipped church to finish packing and pick up a U-Haul so our friends could come help us move it all later. I couldn’t skip church because it was my turn on sound duty.
When another tech volunteer asked what was wrong, all I could manage was, “Advent is our favorite season, and I hate that Chris is missing it right now.” He offered me a hug and coffee. That helped. Just a little.
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There’s something about your first home away from home, even if it’s a weird old apartment with crappy linoleum and an old-fashioned tub rigged into a shower and painted-over wood paneling and the smell of onions and potatoes in the hall every day. As we packed up the first two years we’d made together, I couldn’t help feeling sad, even though I'd spent the last few months savoring one long goodbye. In two years, I'd memorized the sun's travels around building, the way light slanted in through the windows from morning to night, the exact location to catch a pull-chain in the dark when I entered a room.
I didn’t know it, but that first day of Advent two years ago was the quiet beginning of almost a year of darkness. The first evening of hearing upstairs neighbor kids pounding the floor left us wondering if we had made a mistake. We decorated slowly and struggled to find the Christmas spirit. Several months later, it faded into a season marked by depression and fear. I tell people 2017 was “The Year from Hell.”
Two years later, I am here in the early days of Advent 2018. Here, I can look back and notice how our year from hell was one very long Advent. In many ways, our little family has re-emerged into the light. Our home is warm and alive with decorations and candlelight. We have lit the first Advent candle and found our Christmas tree and kept our tradition of going to a traditional Lessons and Carols service. We will proceed with joy, but I can’t shake the memory of the darkness.
In some ways, I’d like to forget that year. In others, I never want to forget it. The memory of darkness makes the light so much sweeter, makes our anticipation for the final resurrection more hopeful.
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I know too many people facing their own dark Advents this year. Their stories, names, and faces are all in my mind as I write this letter. Perhaps you are one of them. Or perhaps you are wrestling angels in a darkness you aren’t ready to talk about yet.
This year, in the early days of Advent 2018, I feel a heaviness, an ache to see a thousand candles burning against the dark. But all I have are these four, humble as they are. As I light them, each Sunday adding another tiny flame, I will pray for you. I will pray for your hard decisions, your struggling relationships, your homesickness, your loss, your depression. I will pray for, if nothing else, a single beam of light to break in.
Each week, we will light one more candle than the last. Each Sunday brings us closer to the dawn of the Light of the World, and we add a tiny bit more light into our darkness. We remember that the story is true. And we ache for the eternal Christmas morning, on earth as it is in heaven.
But for now, we wait.
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SOME FAVORITE ADVENT THINGS
Though Advent has begun, any day can be Day 1 for starting a new tradition. If you're looking for ideas, here are a few of my favorite companions for this season.
Reading:
God is in the Manger by Dietrich Bonhoeffer
A slim, but powerful little book, with daily Scripture and readings from Bonhoeffer's letters and sermons, many of them dispatches from prison. This is my read for this year, and oh, does it ever feel timely and timeless....
The Advent of the Lamb of God by Russ Ramsey
Russ is a gifted storyteller and teacher, and Chris and I have loved his Advent devotional Behold the Lamb of God for years. Now a beautiful new paperback edition is out in the world! With a short reading for the 25 days leading to Christmas, Russ offers a narrative retelling of the story of redemption, from creation to the birth of Christ. Perfect for those who are new to the Biblical story and seasoned readers in need of fresh perspective. (Basically everyone.)
Watch for the Light Anthology
Some of these readings are a little longer, but this is a lovely companion for Advent and Christmas from a wide range of authors. Just listed on the cover: Thomas Aquinas, Annie Dillard, G. M. Hopkins, Madeleine L'Engle, Kathleen Norris, and of course dear ol' Grampa Jack. (C.S. Lewis to the rest of you.) Read it daily, or dip in and out when you find little moments to read by the tree.
Listening:
Sacred Ordinary Days' Advent Playlist
I've long been a fan of Sacred Ordinary Days and their planners, but I finally got into this playlist and have been playing the heck out of it in my car. (Hi $.99 Spotify Premium trial!) Perfect for those of us who still aren't quiiiiite ready for full-on jingle bells and ho ho ho Christmas music yet.
Folk Hymnal - Incarnation Songs
A new little EP I've been digging with original, folksy acoustic songs. I've written a little intro to Folk Hymnal that should be arriving at The Rabbit Room soon.
The Quiet Collection for Christmas by Emily P. Freeman
Okay, I confess I haven't actually listened to this (YET) but I am a huge fan of Emily's podcast The Next Right Thing, so I can recommend this with full confidence. Her presence is so calming and wise, and she always keeps her audio reflections short, profound, and gentle. If you'd like a devotional for Advent but find listening easier for you than reading, check this out for sure.
Creating (or: some hands-on practices for you!)
An Easy Advent Candle Idea
I am NOT crafty at all, but I made this entirely with stuff I found at Hobby Lobby, and I'm unreasonably proud of myself. All you need is a wood slice, some little jars, votive candles, and some bits of greenery from your favorite craft store / Christmas tree / yard. #thankspinterest
#AdventWord - A Global Advent Calendar
Daily prompts and a space to share visual and/or written Advent reflections. I love how open-ended this project is for all creative disciplines. Even a quick picture a day on Instagram could become a practice of noticing.
Advent Prompts at The Poetry Pub
OH HI SHAMELESS PLUG. But seriously, last month Chris and I launched a little poetry group on Facebook and it is the best thing. I love this crew. Even when I completely bailed on November Poem-a-Day, watching these people spin poems brought so much joy to my Facebook feed. We're keeping the party going with a weekly Advent prompt and some folks are using #AdventWord to write daily poems. Come join! You don't have to be a poety Poet... just a word lover with a soul. (Readers and lurkers welcome. :))
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Thanks, as always, for reading. For those of you who made it this far, I hope this season is filled with wonder, hope, peace, and comfort, whether you find yourself in joy or darkness. Let me leave you with "First Coming," a Christmas poem from Madeleine L'Engle...
He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.
He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!
Peace to you this Advent season,
~Jen