This Advent season has felt chaotic. Not in the holiday bustle sense, but because we’re in the midst of packing. This time next week, we’ll be moved into our new home. It’s not a far move – just 6 miles, but we still have all the coordinating and changing forms and packing to do. I haven’t gotten out any decorations, not even our little refillable Advent calendar. I decided we’ll just celebrate the two weeks before Christmas.
In some ways it’s a shame: This is the first year Bea recognizes the excitement of Christmas, and I feel bad that we aren’t establishing traditions. On the other hand, she’s content driving through the neighborhood, looking at lights, and decorating Grandma and Grandpa’s tree.
Being it a state of limbo has me reflecting on the real meaning of this Advent season: The waiting, anticipation, and state of chaos. I think of Mary and how she must have felt similar: She couldn’t make any preparations for her new baby, as they were on the road, moving to a temporary home.
And yet, she held what was important, what was dear, to her heart. I love the French word for dear: cher. It’s a greeting, but it also means precious and expensive. I think about the important things of this season: The precious moments together, the books we read with Bea, the outside-the-home traditions we can instill regardless of home decorations. And the most important, most precious reason of all: We are waiting in anticipation for a redemptive baby to enter this world. That is the most important thing I can instill in Bea, and a home full of boxes somehow fits that scene perfectly.
Linked with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday, a time to write without editing. Our prompt today is Dear.