Advent is a season of waiting. It is the time when we are supposed to be watching and waiting for the arrival of the Son. Advent nights are the darkest nights and the longest nights. They are nights of shadow and questions. Nights when we remember what it was like to wonder if God would keep his ancient promises. Would God remember us? Would God send us a Messiah? In our waiting, we imagine what it must have felt like to live in those days before the Son arrived. Before the True Light from True Light came so unexpectedly clothed in vulnerable humility. We imagine how the darkness must have felt before that amazing baby burst through the night proclaiming peace on Earth.
This year I was especially thankful for this time of holy waiting. I was waiting for all things "Christmas"- for my children to wake up in the morning and jump on my bed and beg us to go downstairs to see what Santa brought. I was waiting for quiet evenings by the fire with my family and Christmas carols, and "Smiling's my favorite!" I was waiting for the arrival of God’s own Son- for His birth and for His return. This year, I was also waiting for something else, the arrival of my own son. My son who doesn’t even realize we are waiting for him.
In many ways, Mary and Elizabeth were my Advent companions. I parked my soul in their stories and instead of rushing past them to get to the babies, I lingered with the women who were the first to understand the profound reality of what was about to happen- that God’s own self was moving in and setting up camp here among us. Like Mary, I am waiting for a child to arrive, hoping against hope that I am prepared to meet him. This is a child who has a history that began long before he entered my life. This is a child who is coming from a place foreign and unknown. This child who is woven into my heart by promises not yet fulfilled. Mary’s story reminds me that while we believe God has blessed us with an amazing gift, there will be questions from those who don’t understand the why’s and how’s of our child’s unconventional origin. But Mary’s story also reminds me of Elizabeth, and Zachariah, and the fact that more often than not there is joy from those who are waiting with you, those who truly love God in the ways that you love God. Mary and Joseph’s stories tell us that God will be with both me and with my husband and God will speak to us both along the way, in different ways and at different times.
While the rest of the world has moved on past Christmas and sweet baby Jesus, I am still sifting and sorting through the lessons I learned during this year’s Advent. I am grateful for a faith that teaches us how to wait and a faith that says we do not wait alone. I am grateful for every gift that was sent to Carter by family and friends. I am grateful that one grandmother made sure there was a stocking with his name on it hanging at her house and that another grandmother wrapped gifts for him under our tree. I am even grateful for every Christmas card that included his name. Those small little gestures were a huge Christmas blessing to this waiting mother’s heart!
So where are we in our waiting? All of our paperwork was sent to China in December and we were officially “logged in” to their system on December 19th. Right now we are waiting for China to issue our official approval to adopt Carter. After that there are several small steps still before we can travel, but my hope is that maybe, just maybe, we will have him with us by Easter!
