These are some of my favourite weeks in a year.
I am currently sat in Katherine’s room. It is dark outside, and I can see my own reflection watching over me as I type. A hot water bottle is on my lap, I am weighted down by a quilt. The end of 2019 is closing in slowly.
I love the waiting of advent. In the closing of a year I get to live out the reality of a new beginning. A tangible practice of that strange truth: in letting go, we receive.
This last week I have been enjoying the start of a series of advent reflections orchestrated by Brian Draper. The daily emails include a link to an RSVP page where people share their experiences.
So far, we have been asked to think about what it is to commune with God, and to find a bench to sit and wait.
People have been sharing the benches they have found (mine below) and their own thoughts and feelings about waiting, letting go, and abiding.
For my part, I have been thinking about something that was said to me on a training day I was running a couple of weeks back –
“I can say ‘the Lord is here’, like in the liturgy, but what does it mean to say ‘My Lord’?”
I am echoing this as a prayer this advent.
I am often asking myself how we are to straddle darkness and light, sorrow and joy, and how we are to believe that nothing is irredeemable when so many things feel irreparable.
These few weeks at least, my focus is waiting, letting go, and abiding.
Lord, more than knowing you are here, teach me to say ‘My Lord’.