I’m very, very thinkative lately.
I’ve been doing my very best these days to try to choose gratefulness… To be present to the holiness of every moment around me. Those are messages that I have been hearing in many different places.
But I struggle… Because I know I need to allow myself my emotions, whatever they may be…
So how do I sit where I am… Accept myself there… Know that I am ok even when I am incapable of picking up my living room… How can I accept and feel the empty feelings and the lonely feelings and the sad feelings… How do I stay present to the holiness found even there (surely it is there too, right?) without making myself sit in the mire, stuck.
I don’t know…
It is advent. And I am thinking again about waiting. And about Christ coming to the desolation. To a land barren and stagnant, where only a remnant still held out an expectation of hope.
I want to be part of a remnant like that. I want to wait actively, expectantly, eager for the arrival of my Lord in the larger sense… and constantly seeking out his arrival and presence in the smaller mundane parts of my everyday moments.
I’m trying to both allow myself the grace to be where I am and to feel what I feel and to, at the same time, center myself in a place of gratefulness and hopeful expectation.
In the midst of all of that, a part of me is excited. Part of me is hoping that in exploring my brokenness, practicing the discipline of gratefulness, and experiencing advent in my own life, maybe perhaps new things will be fanned into flame? Maybe I will learn to see in a new way. Maybe my world is expanding yet again and this season is giving birth to a greater sense of who I am and who God is.