Week 3: Longing

 

My blogging has been interrupted by a 5' 9" shaggy teenage boy who wonders into my room predictably as the hustle of bedtime gives way to the snoring of his younger brothers. 

He comes to listen to the news or watch a clip from late night television.  He comes to taste adulthood.  He's looking for something.  

We've reached the rising crechendo of the holiday season.  Parties are starting soon.  We're wrapping and baking and getting last minute items from the store.  We're texting and scratching out to do lists. At least that's what I'm doing.  And I enjoy it.... but I'm looking forward to the quiet of the vacation to come just past Christmas.  I'm looking forward to wintering with my little brood. Allowing them a rest from school and routine,  with video games and movies,  hikes in the woods,  hot tubs, family reading,  hot chocolate and adventures.  

There is this pressure that comes with Christmas.  A striving for just the right gift. The beautiful chord of presents and decorations and fire light. Everyone gets along. It's all the hallmark movie moments to recreate in real life and then freeze them for a long as possible to stretch out a beautiful warm memory to hold and cherish for Christmases to come. 

And yet,  a friend that I traveled with started hospice this past week.  I've had long conversations with people in my life who are hurting.  Christmas is a salt on tender wounds. 

I've held all this in my heart all week and pondered what God might speak into it to me.  There is a longing. Some subconscious connection with all the brokenness in life that feels amplified by a holiday that is measured by perfection. And whether the feeling is a desire to capture and hold on to a beautiful moment in this holiday or to move past into into a new year or to go back to a time before grief happened.  The longing is there.  Loud or quiet.  Joyous or grief stricken. Longing marks this holiday in a way that I do not feel any other time of year. 

The Longing that things could be put together the way they should be and then stay that way.  The Longing for a world that doesn't suffer.  For time to stop and to breathe in moments of love for eternity. 

These days before Christmas feel so much like Peter on the mountain during the transfiguration. Seeing the glory of God and saying "Let's build tents. Let's camp out and hold on to this moment as long as we can."

This longing gets at the heart of advent.  The waiting.  The deep waiting for the time when God will turn the world upside down and shake it by the heels.  Creation reborn. Each of us whole and healed,  known and loved,  connected to creation and creator and the Longing will be replaced with wholeness. 

For now,  I am making myself become aware of the Longing. Times where I like a teenager wondering into a parents room,  start praying without a real plan, just seeking some sort of connection with God who feels too far away.  Times so precious,  I want to freeze time and hold onto a moment forever and times saddled by grief,  weariness, work and the desire to dive into a quiet wintering. 

These point me to God,  to grace and to hope. 

One day,  the Longing shall be satisfied. 

Until then,  I carry faith, hope and love.