there are two sides to the living room right now.
this is the side that feels merry and bright.
this is the side that is making me feel like i have to remind myself to take deep breaths. we are not moving. we are redecorating. and the bookshelf will eventually arrive. the piles will have a home and we will be able to hang pictures on the walls again.
these past months have been characterized by waiting. waiting for test results. waiting to hear how the school days will look for the kids. waiting for bookshelves. waiting for lab work. waiting for couch arms. waiting for test results again. waiting.
and now we find ourselves in the season of advent, the season of waiting. though we have long been in a season of waiting, a season of strange days bleeding together from one turn of the earth into another tilt of the earth in a way that we have never known before. and this year i find that i am immersing myself in preparations for advent and christmas and the coming new year with with a fierce and deep need to be present in the moments and connected to my people. i am willing to stay in the awkward moments to come out on the other side with understanding. and i seek to grasp the love that descended to bethlehem some two thousand years ago, a love that is not easy sympathy, but a burning fire whose light chases away every shadow, floods every corner, and turns midnight into noon. there is plenty of midnight that needs the light of a full moon or a noonday sun. may we know fierce love; may our corners be flooded; may our midnight be as noonday in the light that will never be overcome by darkness.