Advent - The Silent Wait

Friends and family have asked what we will be doing for Christmas this year. The answer has been, "I don't know." We've never done Santa and I don't plan on buying back into the commercialism that the season brings. I don't have a tree, I do have fairy lights and some dodgy sharpie art.

We don't have an advent calendar, we do have a pay it forward calendar.

We plan on buying the kids a few presents each, like we did last year. We also plan to spend Christmas Eve in a long established "friends Christmas" tradition that we got adopted into last year by our Aussie family. Part of that will be a handmade gift exchange. Expensive only in thought and time. 

I'll do some reading of the Jesus Storybook Bible with the kids and maybe we'll attend a Carol service. That's about it for the things that we're doing but it's not all that is happening in me. 

Much has happened this year in and to my heart and it feels ready to rest. To rest. In this the crazy season of presents and cleaning and shopping and cooking and busyness and, for us, moving house too. I listened to a podcast about the silent years. About what it meant to wait for God before Jesus came. He talked about the parallel between those silent years and the advent period. To silently wait for God in the 'most wonderful time of the year' seems almost impossible, but it's what I'm doing this season. 

I was alone last week - and by alone I mean, Jay was travelling, I was very much still surrounded by children! Anyway, I was alone-ish and I took time to think and pray and sit in peace and just be still. I listened to music and wrote a bit and read and slowly the fog that has plagued my mind for months has begun to lift. 

It has been a hard year. I am so weary and so very ready for it to be over. It has brought me to dark places that are hard to speak out loud. It has brought me to the end of my faith and a tentative beginning of faith. Maybe I can talk about things more deeply when I'm rested. It's important to talk about mental health, because when it's broken it can lead to death, just as poor physical health can. This year hasn't been devoid of joy, it brought me my littlest son and kiddie birthday parties and family visits and close friendships and peace and love increased. These things are good. These things are necessary.

I haven't worked anything out. Except that I desperately need this Advent. I need the silence and the hope. I need Immanuel. God with me.