Waiting in Darkness

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Over the next few weeks, mysustaininggrace.com will be posting reflections for the coming week of Advent. Each reflection will focus on the theme of the advent candle for the corresponding week. The first candle, which we will light on December 3rd, is the Prophet’s Candle or the Candle of Hope. 

“Once upon a time…”

Every child knows that a good story begins with, “Once upon a time” and ends with a  “happily ever after.” In between those two points, however, lies unknown dangers, struggles, sorrows and heartaches. Perhaps this story format is so appealing to us because it mirrors that of the Great Storyteller who began His tale “Once upon a time” in a perfect garden and will end it “happily ever after” in a flawless Heaven. Although the festive Christmas season may prevent us from seeing it, the season of Advent reminds of us of our existence between these two glorious endpoints in God’s story.

During Advent, we are asked to remember the long wait for a Messiah, the hope fostered by the prophets, and the thousands of years worth of prayers for deliverance that flooded the gates of Heaven. We are called to recall a time when hope was just a tiny flicker in the midst of darkness, when the people waiting in darkness had yet to see a great light. At the same time, we are challenged to reflect on our own sin-stained souls and to renew our deep longing for salvation. We are forced to acknowledge that the whole of creation “waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God…in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.”(Romans 8:19-21) We are required to listen to our spirits as we “groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body.” (Romans 8:23).

This spiritual longing for Christ’s coming and salvation is a deep, natural one that rises up from the core of our being and permeates every part of us. It is profound and powerful and all of creation echoes our soul’s groaning. It is like a bereaved mother whose longing for her child is so strong that her arms become painful, heavy and restless as they reach out into empty darkness, waiting to be filled and receiving only the reply of “not yet.”

Advent also reminds us, though, that in the midst of that darkness, there is a flicker of light. Through the spoken words of the prophets, the written words of the Bible, the gaze of Christ looking tenderly out from a portrait, the loving actions of a neighbor, we are reminded that Christ is coming. We feel a shimmer of excitement shiver through us as it whispers, “The arrival is coming!” We hear the swipe of a match and see the tiny blaze of a single candle burning in the black of night. We smell the smoke and feel its slight warmth. Though we can scarcely believe it, it is there. A candle of hope that reminds us that He is coming.

 

Grief’s a Stinker

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If you have a young girl at home, you’ve probably had plenty of opportunities to watch Disney’s Frozen and to accumulate some favorite (and not so favorite) lines that run through your head at odd moments. Tonight, Princess Anna’s line about her volatile and reclusive sister keeps running through my head (“She’s a stinker!”) because it so aptly describes grief.

Just when I’m feeling pretty good and start to think that I have mastered being a grieving parent, the sorrow pummels me again and I am filled with sadness. Sadness because I miss my child. Sadness because I love the age from eight months to two years and I don’t get to enjoy that time with my second daughter. Sadness because my family will never be all together in this world. Sadness for my friend who is grieving her son’s death. Sadness for all the little ones who we don’t get to know on this side of Heaven. Sadness because change happens before I have appreciated the things that change. Sadness for our world and all of the hatred it holds. Sadness because of evil and sin.

Its a deep, deep sorrow that leaves me standing, mute before God. I can’t offer Him my thoughts because I can’t hold onto a thought long enough to be truly aware of it. I can’t offer Him my words because I don’t have any – I just cling to His words. I can’t even offer Him my feelings because the sadness is so empty that it feels like a colossal hole full of nothingness.

But somewhere in the depths of my soul I hear the words of St Therese of Lisieux saying, “I wish to give all to Jesus, since He makes me understand that He alone is perfect happiness. All!–all shall be for Him! And even when I have nothing, as is the case to-night, I will give Him this nothing . . .”* and I know that, for right now, placing my nothingness in His hands is all that I need to do.

 

*From The Story of A Soul – The Autobiography of St. Therese of Lisieux as quoted on https://www.ecatholic2000.com/therese/sos18.shtml