O come, thou Dayspring from on high,
and cheer us by thy drawing nigh;
disperse the gloomy clouds of night,
and death’s dark shadows put to flight.
(from The Hymnal 1982, hymn 56)
The rain is pounding as I wake. At least it is not snow, I think. But it is snow in the Midwest that closed an airport and delayed the arrival of an eagerly expected guest in our house. The waiting continues.
I sit in the rain-dark morning, illumined by the lights on the Christmas tree. My oldest daughter is packing her lunch for school—one more day before break. The waiting continues.
One more day before we can give ourselves over completely to holy other time. I yearn now for the release that comes with immersing myself fully in the rhythm of ritual and play and prayer and festival.
Three more days of Advent. Three more days of the waiting.
Three more days that are lengthening, even as we reach to light the fourth candle, revealing that the waiting strengthens rather than depletes our hope. The light grows brighter, closer; the wild star is already piercing the heavens as the fullness of time draws nigh.
copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2012
