Advent. The waiting time. Days shorten, and long evenings are lit by neighborhood displays, crackling fires, and candles. I write this on a dark afternoon promising early nightfall. Gray clouds are scudding overhead, brown leaves swirling in the wind.
We wait. We’ve been waiting for centuries. Waiting for hope, for deliverance, for better days, for wars to cease, for new life to be born, for the light to return.
Consider what waiting might mean for you this season. The lines will be long, the traffic heavy, the duties many. We can resort to impatience, succumb to an agitated mind, or we can simply abide, tarry, linger.
May you linger, perhaps aimlessly delay with a click on this Advent hymn: O Come, O Come Emmanuel. Pausing, even ever-so-briefly, could be the very best gift of the season.