Advent 2018

When I was in primary school, every girl wanted to be Mary for the Christmas play. It did not matter that Mary had no speaking part and had to merely sit still behind the manger. Every girl wanted to be Mary.  None of us boys, however, wanted to be Jospeh. No way. We...

I sit here early in the evening trying to figure out what to say to you all. And to be honest, I forgot I was asked to write for the blog. Much like life lately, THIS happens before getting to the thing you WANT to do, or THAT happens before you can get to the thing...

To be a little blunt, I thought Advent was about rest and family. It certainly surprised me when I was told it is actually about longing, waiting, and expectation. I’ve been fortunate enough to consistently feel like I am at a “quiet tranquility” during past Advent seasons, but I find myself continually longing for “cessation from war or violence.” How can it be that I am at peace, but also yearn for it?

I bought the wooden sign in the clearance aisle at Home Goods, red with white lettering that spelled the word, JOY. Rustic in its simplicity, behold, a visceral sign to remind me of what I must prioritize more than anything this holiday season. I took it home and displayed it on the dining table, next to the wooden Nutcracker and ceramic Santa Clauses.
Can I be honest? Lately I feel more fear than joy.

The holidays are supposed to be filled with joy. I mean just look around everywhere you go, you’ll see it in bright shiny letters or hear it when you turn on the radio. It feels superficial as though joy is something that can be defined by a dictionary or a song. I have a confession. I haven’t felt joy—true authentic joy, the kind that can’t be written or sung about—for some time.

I miss the good old days. Things were happier then, you know? Simpler. Less death, less war, less injustice, fewer despots, fewer immigrants, fewer threats to health and happiness. Confession—I’ve actually never been one to believe in the good old days. It seems...