Tag: hope

What Am I Waiting For?

I was standing in line at Trader Joe’s right before Thanksgiving, and overheard a young woman ask the cashier where the Advent calendars were. She said she wanted to buy the one for dogs. I stifled a guffaw when he told her to look in aisle three. This was no joke! Advent calendars help children endure the long wait until Christmas with a daily chocolate. Maybe dogs get milk bones, but do they also need help waiting for December 25?

When my daughters were young, we always had an Advent calendar (never for pets), right next to our Advent wreath. I made my girls wait to open the little window each day so we could all share the ritual, complete with lighting the candles. I lectured them that waiting and longing is half the fun. One year, my middle daughter innocently asked, “But Mommy, what are we waiting for?”  My answer made no sense to her, but what a good question for everyone during Advent. Today, the art of waiting seems as obsolete as a dial telephone and the Walkman.

American culture likes to rush things. Christmas trees up at Costco before Halloween;  self-checkout in all the stores; AI for ideas, letter writing; Christmas cards sent in one swoop on social media. Meanwhile, the ancient themes of waiting and watching echo down through the ages. Be alert! Be aware!  Ponder, meditate, and carve out some quiet time amidst all the seasonal hoopla. Savor the moment, breathe. Reflect on the meaning of the season; watch and wait for the mystery of the Incarnation to be revealed in subtle ways. But alas, we cannot wait. We are done with Christmas before it even happens, and cannot wait until it’s over.

During the season of Advent, it often helps to ask: What am I waiting for? Take a few minutes, have a cup of coffee or tea, and try to make a list. You can even do this as you wait in line to pay for Christmas gifts, as you wait for the stoplight to change, as you wait for water to boil, or for spaghetti to cook.  Get into a spiritual frame of mind. Go big and small. Do not edit, just write.

Last Sunday, the first day of Advent, after having read the Sunday Scriptures, I made my yearly list. It was an old refrain. One I have had for decades:

I am waiting for lions to lie down with lambs, for swords to be made into ploughshares, for the proud to be scattered in their conceit, for the lowly to be lifted up, for the hungry to be filled, for the fearful to find trust, and for peace in our homes, our country, our world.  

This kind of waiting spans a lifetime and requires immense patience. Sadly, I am often impatient and feel like a voice crying out in the wilderness. Yet, despite sounding like an old prophet railing at the injustices of the world, I was buoyed up by a hidden grace that seemed to permeate my being. Suddenly, I felt held, sustained, and nourished by an infinite love streaming through the universe.  In a split second, a sense of wonder and compassion pierced right through me. Ah. Those brief minutes of clarity are always worth the wait.

Hope on the Fourth Day of Christmas

“Let your heart be light. . .from now on our troubles will be out of sight. . .”

The Winter Solstice, the year’s darkest day, has now passed. Each day henceforth, the sunlight increases, which is precisely why celebrating the Incarnation on December 25th is so meaningful in the northern hemisphere. The Light of the World came to dispel the darkness forever.  Mirrored in the landscape of Earth and sky, hope shines most brightly during the Christmas Season.

In 1969, more than 475,000 U.S. military personnel were stationed in Vietnam. There were 11,780 American soldiers dead that year, and countless more Vietnamese. In June, I had just returned from doing a USO tour of the east-west Mediterranean, entertaining the troops stationed to protect our NATO allies, most having already served tours in Vietnam. I was deeply affected by the casualties of war, having seen the desperate look in the eyes of so many young men and women. That December, I was asked to sing a solo at a Christmas party for a large department store in my hometown. I chose to perform “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”(written by Hugh Martin) because I wanted to uplift the hearts of the families of active service and veterans who were hanging onto hope that “our troubles will be out of sight,” as this emotionally-packed song lyrics crescendo. I recall becoming choked up in the middle of singing as tears welled up in the eyes of many.  Afterward, I was reassured that the audience benefitted from feeling the emotions of communal hope.

Fifty years have passed since that experience, but the need for hope-filled moments has not. Throughout several more wars, a worldwide pandemic, and political unrest, hope has waxed and waned like the cycles of the moon. We feel this most acutely when pessimism creeps into our daily lives due to loss and sadness. Although some may be more resilient than others, no one escapes suffering regardless of how much money or successes are amassed. The cross comes to everyone, which is why the Incarnation and the Paschal Mystery remain so meaningful to Christians. Our God-made-flesh knows what it means to be human, has experienced both joy and sorrow, loss and gain. “Hope springs eternal,” a proverb I live by, remains written indelibly in the human heart.

On this fourth day of Christmas, may we allow the resilience of the human spirit to rise again. May hope warm and inspire us to embrace life in all its complexity!

Joy on the First Day of Christmas

“Let every heart prepare him room. . .And heaven and nature sing. . .While fields and floods, rocks, hills, and plains repeat the sounding joy. . .”

It is Christmas! Time to celebrate JOY, no matter what the news tells us, no matter what burdens we are carrying, no matter how many injustices remain in our world. The Incarnation of Jesus, the second “big bang” that happened on Earth, infused a light that can never be extinguished. But we must open our eyes to see it, open our hearts to experience it.

Perhaps because I was born on Christmas Day, my soul is inured with a deep primordial joy when the season rolls around. Lovely childhood memories of Christmases in Minnesota, when my parents were in charge, rise from my daily meditations. We were not rich by any stretch, but we always had a tree, gifts (extras for me, the birthday girl), a special meal and a birthday cake. My heart still expands when I recall soft snow falling at night, the sound of familiar carols during midnight mass in our ancient stone church, my mother wishing me a happy birthday when mass was over.

The Christmases I have lived in California, when I was in charge of the celebrations, are also filled with joy unspeakable. Determined to make every year better, I conjure up the mystical and magical as I prepare during Advent for the big celebration. I bake traditional cookies, prepare sacramental meals, and plan spiritual rituals for friends and family who grace my dinner tables. Everyone must get involved and partake of the food that nourishes both body and soul.

On this first day of Christmas 2024, the joy of our candle-lighting ritual before dinner always elates me. Little white candles in gold candle holders are clipped to every plate. As we light each others’ candles, each person pronounces a blessing. This year, we had nineteen people at the table (I have nine grandchildren)! They blessed family, aging relatives and friends, new births, and those in war-torn countries. More nourishing than the meal itself, there are no words to describe moments like these. Tears of joy spilled into my glass of wine as we toasted to another glorious Christmas day.