Awaiting the return

For you yourselves know very well that the day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night.
1 Thessalonians 5:2

The wakeful part of my soul listens. Although I am mostly asleep, a part of my consciousness is waiting. Waiting for the sounds of a door opening, footsteps on the stairs, the homecoming of our daughters. They are young adults now, and they return to this place which is not the home in which they grew up.  Nevertheless, in their returning they make it more assuredly home for all of us.

And because they are young and on their own and it is a long drive, they will arrive in the middle of the night.

I remember a morning years ago when I was walking them to school and they ditched me, in all good humor, ready and yearning to walk on their own. I knew it was time. And I also felt unprepared, as if a thief came in the night and snuck their childhood out the door while I was sleeping. And at the same time, I anticipated with joy the women they would be come.

Advent is the season of waiting, of expectancy, of paradox: we look simultaneously for the vulnerable baby in the manger as well as the triumphant Christ who will gather all of broken creation into strong arms of love and make all whole.

I hear the footsteps, the soft familiar voices, and slip into a deep sleep, knowing the house will be even more full when I awake.