Friday of the Third Week of Advent

I waited patiently upon the Lord;
   he stooped to me and heard my cry.  Psalm 40:1

I don’t feel very patient, I think, as I look at the three candles lighted on the Advent wreath. Three candles in. Where is the peaceful waiting? Where is the lingering around the Christmas tree with carols playing in the background? Where is the contemplation of the empty manger? I am waiting impatiently. Patiently. Impatiently. Patiently. Impatiently. The chant goes on in my head. Regardless is the waiting. It would be ironic, I think, to say that I am suffering from impatience, as the word patience means to suffer. To tolerate the uncomfortable without becoming anxious. To bear with.

What is it that I have to bear with this season, that is keeping me unsettled even as we enter more deeply into sacred time?

And there is Mary, bearing the discomfort, bearing the waiting, bearing the Christ child.

What do I have to bear? What new life do I have yet to bear?




Image credit and copyright Anne E. Kitch 2014