Filed under: Advent
I had so many things I wanted to post for Advent but our house has been struck by some sort of viral plague that has kept us sneezing, coughing, and running fevers. Mine turned into a secondary bacterial sinus infection that kept me in bed watching BBC miniseries for the past four days while my angelic parents, in-laws, husband, and brother picked up the slack for me. How did we spend Little Bear’s first year-and-a-half so many states away from family? I couldn’t be happier that we’re settled close by.
Anyhow, I finally gave in and started taking some antibiotics and am starting to improve but am still under the weather. So I thought I’d post an Advent reflection I wrote last year for one of the Landing Literary Society’s meetings. Here tis.
I was huge. Not just big—gigantic. Even before I entered my third trimester, well-intentioned old ladies would pat my shoulder and say, “Any day now!” encouragingly as I waddled my way through the grocery store. Considering the raging pregnancy hormones running through my system, I’m impressed that I didn’t slap any of the kind-hearted dears. I was huge.
As it neared the end of November, I started wearing flip-flops exclusively because my swollen feet wouldn’t fit into anything else. I think I gave up on other footwear after one particularly bad day when my husband had to help me get my boots off as I helplessly yelled inchoate phrases about being the only woman who would be pregnant forever. My maternity coat didn’t fit anymore by the time it was cold enough to wear it which enraged me further. When I wasn’t at work, I was lying on the couch or in the bath tub trying to remember what it felt like to be able to see my toes. Then I would see a tiny limb change position—reminding me that my massive tummy housed a moving, living child.
As December neared and Advent began I considered this season for perhaps the first time. I had lighted Advent candles as a little girl and been excited about Christmas coming but had never considered the season as anything except a Pre-Christmas countdown. I came to realize that this is as incomplete an understanding of Advent as a definition of pregnancy as simply the nine months preceding a birth.
While I tried to remember what my feet looked like, I remembered the Blessed Virgin Mary. I confess that I had never thought much about her before. I had never felt that we had anything in common until now. But as my belly got rounder and rounder and my back got achier and achier, I remembered her. She has done this, I thought. She has felt her child move in her womb, perhaps even responding to the sound of her voice or her song. She experienced this miracle of life taking place within her.
In our modern disenchanted age we have not completely lost our fascination with the miracle of new life. Whenever I dragged my sleepy pregnant body to public places my experience was different than ever before. Little children looked at my belly, fascinated, sometimes even trying to give my belly a pat or lift up my shirt to discover if there was really a baby inside. Other mothers smiled at me and grandmothers reassured me. My ordinary child, this new ordinary life, elicited such a response of amazement. How much more miraculous is the coming of our Lord?, I began to wonder.
For unto us a child is born. Unto us a son is given.
I was expecting my son during the season of expectation. The word comes from expectare—to wait, to hope, to look for. I did all this things. At first there was a contentment in the waiting and the hoping but eventually the groaning, miserable discomfort led to a readiness to be delivered of the tiny tyrant reigning over me from my womb. A week before my due date I was so exhausted and so tired of bumping the counters with my colossal tummy and getting up 10 times a night because the little angel had given my bladder yet another energetic punch, that I began to lose it a bit. I couldn’t go to work one more day. I couldn’t fit behind my desk. I couldn’t sleep. Until the discomfort crossed a certain threshold and I was struck with a desperate desire to be pregnant not a day longer, the pain of delivery was alarming to me and I remained unprepared. Now it did not frighten me. Anything but this. I started to understand that it is not until we are exhausted, ill with our condition, miserable, that we are ready for Christ—when we can really desire to be delivered.
I kept thinking about the Blessed Virgin Mary. Was she as desperate to give birth as I was? I considered with wonder how when her baby boy was delivered, he would in turn deliver her, deliver me, deliver my own unborn son.
As I waited in joyous, miserable, anxious expectation, I started to understand an inkling of what it must have felt like to wait for the Messiah, Mary’s son. I begin to understand the Joy born to the world on Christmas and present with us now as I heard the sound of the first beautiful and strong cry of my newborn son. I realized in a new way how to wait with groaning and expectation for our Lord’s return in glory. It was my first Advent.
Filed under: Misc
Daniel and I created a new blog that will focus on food and the Christian Year, with an emphasis on seasonal, healthful, local and ethically produced food. I’ll focus this blog on updates about our family, books, and other thoughts. There will still be discussion about the Christian Year and occasionally some overlap…
Benjamin and I concocted this Advent wreath from the Christmas Tree trimmings left over at Home Depot. We successfully deposited pine needles all over the house as well. We’ve been trying to eat mostly soups and fish during this Advent season to remind ourselves that this is a penitential spirit of fasting in the season before Christmas.
I’ve been collecting some Advent resources over the past few months and I’ll post them as they come to mind. Here‘s one devotional that I try to read every morning:
Also, when I worked at the Center for Christian Ethics I did a great deal of the planning for their latest issue of Christian Reflection, their quarterly publication, entitled Advent Ethics that just came out in early November. I haven’t had a chance to enjoy the whole issue yet, but so far, I particularly love “The Three Advents” by Father James Conner, OCSO. The entire issue (minus the art due to permissions) is available on their web site.
I picked out this image for the cover and I’m so glad they used it:
It’s Georges de La Tour’s The Dream of St. Joseph depicting the angel coming in a dream to tell St. Joseph of the coming of the Christ Child. I love this image for Advent because of the general darkness of the painting in contrast with the strength of the candle’s light illuminating the face of the angel giving the blessed message. Yet, the flame of the candle is still almost entirely covered by the angel’s arm. Our Lord, the Light of the World has not yet arrived, but his coming begins to shed light on our dark night of the soul as we prepare our hearts. May the news of Christ’s coming reach us as we are faithfully following his way, as St. Joseph pictured here–vigilantly reading the Holy Scriptures until the blessed dream overcame him.
Here’s our sweet boy standing proudly behind our beautiful Nativity Scene that my sweet mother-in-law gave us last year for Christmas. He has been loving it so much and will grab my hand excitedly, pointing to the figures and exclaim, “I want to tell you who those people are!” Then he will hand me each one in turn, “cow!” “manger!” “Mary!”
This is Little Bear “hugging” the nativity scene.