"I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope."

~ Psalm 130:5

Hope Is a Thing with Melted Wax

As a recent empty nester, this year has been my first experience of my son "coming home for the holidays." Even though he didn't make it home until the day after Thanksgiving and will likely be gone again on his next adventure by the time Christmas rolls around, it very much feels like "the holidays" having him here now. The watchful waiting of Advent feels very apt for this season of my son's life as well. I have the sense within my home and within my heart of something special happening. It's as if we're sitting directly on a hinge point between hopeful anticipation for what is still to come and precious nostalgia for days gone by.

I felt this acutely last week as I unpacked the Christmas decorations. Some of my own favorite Christmas memories as a child were of unwrapping each ornament alongside my mom and having her tell me its story. Even the tissue paper wrapping that kept each ornament safe during its long hibernation between Christmases seemed ancient and full of family lore! Now, I find myself with a similar collection of ornaments wrapped in ancient tissue, including the sentimental classics from my son's younger years - the footprint reindeer, the handprint angel, the free-form LEGO manger. I wonder how it all accumulated so fast. 

I am always most excited to pull out our Advent wreath. When I was growing up, I loved lighting my family's Advent candles, but they were in regular candleholders, and I always wished for a wreath of fresh and fragrant evergreens like the one at church. I was delighted when, several years ago, Saint John's offered an Advent Workshop and we had the opportunity to make a wreath of our own. The memories I have of making it with my son, who was only 4 or 5 then, are so very precious to me. Our wreath is a masterpiece of plastic evergreen, metallic pinecones, tangled raffia, mystery berries, and hot glue. The fact that the plastic greenery has been fused together in places from years and years of wax drippings makes it all the more prized and adored. Then, of course, there is the delicious anticipatory knowledge that, perhaps someday, that wreath will hold nostalgic memories and meaning for him, too. Someday, he might reminisce to someone special about his favorite Advent and Christmas memories.

Advent reminds us that, no matter how many years we unpack the same ornaments, hear the same scriptures, sing the same beloved songs, or use the same old recycled tissue paper to wrap our fragile Christmas treasures, we are invited into a story that is still unfolding. There are twists and turns to be expected; there always are! But hope, like a single flame on a worn and beloved Advent wreath, is also there to guide us.