Advent: Week 1

I’ve never liked driving in inclement weather.

The idea of not having, at least most of the control, in my car worries me.

I remember so many snow storms in Colorado where I had to get home and I had to brave bad conditions in order to do so.

I especially hated what I call the “Millenium Falcon” effect.

Snow is relentlessly falling from the sky, creating minimal visibility. The pattern of the snowfall looks like the view from the Millenium Falcon as it is jumping into lightspeed.

Only seeing a few feet ahead of me is not something I’m comfortable with, whether it’s driving in bad weather, or in my life in general.

It’s the first week of December and the first week of Advent, and as of right now, I’ve got maybe 3 feet of visibility ahead.

The main prayer I keep praying every day is for God to help me through the discomfort, cause I know I can’t ask him to take it away.

The things I have to do right now are annoying, they are tedious, they are uncomfortable. That is just their nature, but they are also necessary.

They are things that I have never done before though, so I never know what the next day is going to look like or how much energy I’m going to have, not to mention no day is predictable in the world of 8th graders.

Despite all this discomfort, the last week has brought me clarity on many things. I’ve found a new safe space in the gym. I’ve gotten clear confirmation about some choices that I’ve made. I’ve really started to understand that my faith really is the one thing I can fall back on, because the rest of the world is largely going to disappoint me.

I talk to the kids often about how to deal with setting goals, responding to mean people, and keeping their heads up even when stuff sucks. I have these conversations with them so often, because these situations never go away. I’m still in it and so are they.

They’ve asked me a lot of questions about the holidays and how I’m feeling about still being single and not having kids of my own.

I have to be careful how I answer these questions, because I don’t want to sound defeated; that’s not the example they need to see. I do, however, also have to be honest with them, because that, they do.

It is equally possible to be utterly devastated and hopeful at the same time.

I saw this post on Instagram today which really helped me put things into perspective.

I’m living in the tension of hope.

That tension is necessary and painful and weird and awkward and healthy. All at the same time. But that tension also doesn’t allow me to get too ahead of myself. It’s forcing me to operate with that limited visibility.

That tension is telling me to focus on the tasks at hand.

I’m training myself how to wait, while in preparation, even though what I’m waiting and preparing for is not visible – it’s beyond the proverbial storm outside my windshield.

The tension of hope is the place where my next is going to come from; hopefully sooner rather than later.

This first week of Advent has taught me that there is always more to be done to prepare for the promises ahead, even when we can’t see more than a few feet in front of us.

❤