Christmas

How to Create Unhurried Moments This Advent

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That first year, I bought a pretty Advent wreath at our local book store and began reading about how one actually goes about “observing Advent.” (The “right” way, you know.)  

I quickly recognized that Advent, like every other good and beautiful thing, has the potential to morph into an altogether less than beautiful thing. That is, a duty.  A “hurry-up-and-get-it-right” kind of duty. (The very worst kind.)

A devotion every day in December? One for me and one for the kids? 

Learn a new carol every day of Advent? 

Choose one act of kindness–or recipe to make or book to read–every day, for four weeks?

And don’t forget those Advent Sundays–and don’t mix up which Sunday you’re on! 

Thankfully, I was wise enough to stop my perfectionism in its tracks as I embraced the newly discovered observances. (As a mom raising and homeschooling five children at the time, I hardly had the margin for anything “extra,” especially during the holiday season.)

Those first few years, our family simply gathered around the dining room table every Sunday in December; read a short devotion together (usually one by Max Lucado); and the kids took turns lighting one candle each week.

As my kids grew, the traditions grew with them. The season was sprinkled with simple, annual activities that we all looked forward to–like Christmas shopping dates, peppermint shakes, and picking out new ornaments for the tree.

And of course, the official “countdown,” gratis the cheap felt Advent calendar I bought at a dollar store that first year. (Which now is hung next to–albeit not entirely replaced by, a more elegant edition featuring Tasha Tudor.)

Advent connects us across years and miles.

Over the years, I’ve often wondered if traditions like Advent will mean anything to my kids once they’re raising families of their own. The first year our daughter was away from home for Christmas gave me a hopeful glimpse into the future. 

Living overseas and away from home for the first time in her twenty years of life, our daughter was understandably homesick last December. Living in Army barracks doesn’t lend itself to festivities, so I encouraged her to do what decorating she had time and resources to manage.

And the moment she lamented not having an Advent wreath, I ordered one online and had it delivered to her in late November. 

That year, our daughter shared in our family’s annual Advent tradition, via Facetime, and lit her own candles as her siblings lit ours at home. (We’ve already planned to do it again this year, and likely for more years to come.) 

We are right where we are meant to be this Advent.

One of my favorite quotes from Glad and Golden Hours by Lanier Ivester reads:

“… We are not ‘behind’ or ‘ahead’ of things, we are right where we are meant to be, anchored in the present moment by tangible witnesses of good things to come.”

(page 36)

As a perfectionist who’s always feared “falling behind” in every way you can imagine being “behind” something or someone else, those words spoke calmness to my often tired heart. 

If this is your first or your fiftieth year observing Advent, you’re neither behind nor ahead.

Whether you’re cultivating traditions for your children or your grandchildren, you’re neither behind nor ahead.

And whether you’re celebrating in a stained-glass cathedral, a humble living room, or an Army barracks–you’re also right where you are meant to be.

Because that is precisely where the Hope of Advent will come and find you–in your present moment of pain or joy or desire or disappointment. He’ll always find you right where you are–you’ll never be too late, and you’ll never arrive early. 

So embrace this first week of Advent just as it comes. Imperfectly, messily, softly, overwhelmingly.

But not hurriedly.  

Because “even in our hardest places, that goodness is coming.” And really, that’s what we’re waiting for, isn’t it? 

“Now, when I tie those ribbons…I think, as I have always done, of Christmases past, and all the memories with which they are inextricably twined. But I also think of the unseen mercies coming our way, the goodness of God winging toward us through all the stretches of the unknown year. Even in our hardest places, that goodness is coming–is, in fact, already present, though we humans can rarely see it but in retrospect.”

(Lanier Ivester in Glad and Golden Hours, page 53)
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Photography: JenniMarie Photography

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