Last night, in between eating the chocolate and trying to watch Heroes, I was slipping pieces of paper and candies into each door of this little calendar.
Bible verses to speak truth, of coming life.
Families to pray for.
Surprises for cozy evenings.
And chocolate, of course.
This morning we opened up the first door. Out spilled the silver wrapped treasures into her hands and we sat to read about the Root of Jesse. How He will not judge by what He sees with His eyes, or by what He hears with His ears. (And I think, Oh how I need to understand that.) She is listening at my side, sneaking chocolate before breakfast, and I know that it's a lot to expect her to get it. I mean, the whole weight of Advent is something that only unpacks itself more and more as we get older. Right now, she hears words and I'm praying that something in her can differentiate between the bearded man who has flying reindeer, and the man who came to save the world.
Because one is fun to pretend.
And the other is our lifesource.
I don't know how to do it all, but we bow our heads and pray. For the name on the slip of paper. For hope. For the difference between dreams and reality, for patience, for the waiting.
It's all in the waiting until the next thing opens and spills into our hands.
Day one of the Advent season, and while it seems everyone is "adventing" these days, I still feel like I did when I was five. We hopped into the truck to go get the tree and the Christmas music is already playing. Bing croons and she belts out along from the backseat, and I feel that same magic that hits me every year.
It's the chilly night searching for the perfect tree,
the clear early winter sky that seems to dangle the stars low into our view,
a knit cap pulled over my ears,
the faint appearance of our breath as the temperate drops,
Christmas music serenading as the tree stands tall in the corner,
the collection of ornaments all at the bottom where she hangs them,
the pile of glass swept up from all the ones she dropped,
and then this.
This moment where you realize all of the stories and pretending, all of the imagining,
the bells ringing while angels getting their wings...
it might as well be real right now.
She's looking for wonder and I am praying I can hand it to her over the next 25 days, 25 years even.
Watching you parent is one of the great joys of my life.
ReplyDelete:) thanks lo. being a parent is one of the great joys of my life. :)
ReplyDeleteI love your blog. :)
ReplyDeleteAnd I know you will bring to your little one's eyes and heart much wonder and delight as she flourishes into the woman she is destined to become. I know because I know you are not raising her alone but have the audience and gentle prodding of the King at hand to oversee, and He is earnestly watching over both His princesses.
:)J
@jeanine - you bless me with your words. I do take great rest and peace in knowing that ultimately, it's all in His hands. Sometimes I forget, and I need these reminders. He covers us so carefully. You encouraged me so much. Love you, dear friend.
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