Thursday, 7 December 2017

A (characteristically belated) Pause in Advent

Dear Baby Jesus,
I know that I keep you small and baby-like in my life. Swaddled in a corner with my dusty Bible amid the novels that I do get on and read. My babies cried for attention, and they cry less now, but it's all attention anyway. Attention to meal-times and homeworks and this week's exam revision, and bathtimes and bedtimes and fall asleep on the sofa after times. Attention to school runs and hospital appointments and dentist appointments and all the things that fill a diary without even thinking about the special events of this month. Into all this attention, please be bigger than the space I give you,

O come, o come, Emmanuel.

Dear Boy Jesus,
You honoured Mary and Joseph, but kept your eye on your Father. You knew His business; you knew His place. This sandwich generation thing goes up a gear when it's a turkey sandwich generation thing, organising two houses for food and presents and cards. But more than that, wanting two homes to be filled with joy of the season, joy of lights and warmth and fun. Wanting the ones who have given everything to you at all times to have everything that makes their Christmas right. Into two homes, with all their expectations, spoken or barely acknowledged, with all your pointing to our Father,

O come, o come, Emmanuel.

Dear Man Jesus,
It was always going to involve death. It wasn't all about the death; there was the resurrection after that changes everything, but you knew there had to be a death. This Advent you know the ones who are waiting but not for Christmas Day, the ones for whom Christmas Day will never be the same again, because that's the season she left them, for an earthly time. Into the places where grief sings louder than the carols and the Pogues,

O come, o come, Emmanuel.

Dear Jesus,
I don't know how this happened, this all-consuming focus on being ready, this year round. Ready for what? I'm usually all about the making space for Advent, the taking of the time to celebrate presence, that doesn't come in an Amazon box. I haven't time for that this year, haven't thoughts for that this year. Must be ready, must write my lists. Ready for one day? Have I really fallen prey? Into this lamentable state of affairs, my Jesus,

O come, o come, Emmanuel


6 comments:

Fat Dormouse said...

What a beautifully haunting version of the song. I love it! And I lover your words too. Thank you.

Angela said...

Thank you Mags, for such a thoughtfully written, challenging post. May you find some true Advent space soon x

Lisa Richards said...

Yes, so true. It's so much "easier" to get to the novels than the Word! And our space fills up quickly with good things, but not the BEST thing. I'm in the same place, though I no longer have a large family at home. What's my excuse? You do us a service with this reminder! Thank you! :)
And you've also reawakened in me a "need" to learn to play the cello, lol. I loved this video. Must share on Facebook!

Gumbo Lily said...

Oh my, such truth and beauty and honesty. Thank you, Maggs. I wish for you a little bit of quiet peace on Earth and a little time for adoring the Jesus in the manger. Love.

Kezzie said...

Oh this was such an excellent post Mags!!

Nearly Martha said...

Yep, I think we are all finding more of ourselves in this post than we would like. Thanks very much