The day before Thanksgiving – busiest travel day of the American year. And on the East Coast, we’re expecting a snow storm. Fun and funner! And, though I hope no one’s experience feels like the end of the world, the stresses of travel are not a bad metaphor for the Advent season.
Whether you are hitting the road (or rails or skies) yourself, or awaiting some else’s arrival, chances are you face a lot of waiting and anticipation. Waiting in a terminal when a plane or train is delayed is never fun; even if we have something to occupy our time, every announcement and movement tends to draw our attention. We scan the boards and strain to hear the loudspeaker between sentences of our book or email. When will it come? When will it end?
Waiting for God to show up – cataclysmically, at the end of the ages, or here and now, in the midst of a crisis – can also feel like that. Though we often look back on events and say that God’s timing was just right, in the moment it can feel like we’re waiting forever.
And then there’s anticipation, which is waiting with a twist. When we’re really excited about something that is going to happen soon, we often say “I can’t wait!” When we’re little, Advent seems to be about waiting for Christmas, with its huge build-up. As we get older, we learn that Advent is really about waiting to celebrate the birth of Christ, the inbreaking Word of God, come to take up residence in us – and we know that, as wonderful as that story is, as fully as we have embraced it, it’s still incomplete, because we’re still waiting for the fullness of that revelation of God to be completed. We’re still too surrounded by pain and evil to think we’ve seen the end of the story. We’re still waiting and anticipating.
Is there anything we can do to be more content in both our waiting and our anticipation? Yes – and it happens to be the one thing most philosophers and sages suggest we do to live more fulfilled lives: be present. Now. Focus on where you are in this moment, not the next, not the one that just passed. Now.
If we were to do that in a terminal, we might find ourselves focusing on the people around us. Focusing on our feelings of waiting and not knowing when we will leave or our loved ones arrive. Focusing on our breath and our life, on our gifts and our thoughts, on what we love, on who we love, and who loves us. This is a way to transcend the waiting and receive an opportunity to tune our awareness to the breath of those around us, to the pulse of the community, to the yearnings of the universe. That’s not wasted time… that’s a form of prayer, of connecting to the Holy. It is Advent life, a Travel Day.
Eternity is an forever of Now. Learning to wait with anticipation while fully content will serve us well in this life and in the life to come. It creates in us a capaciousness and a serenity in which others can seek shelter. It creates space in which the Holy Spirit can dwell and bless others.
I hope today is a wonderful day for you, wherever you are and wherever you are going. I pray you will be amazed at the peacefulness, even joy, you can experience whatever the weather and the traffic. They are temporary – you are eternal. Already.
You... Are.
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