Text messages flew from Texas to California and back that Monday in December. Dozens of messages full of happy-tear emojis and exclamation points. And a picture, a picture of my daughter and son-in-law, faces bright with anticipation. Accompanying the photo, a message from Karis, "I think I have never been happier in my life!"
And a photo of a darling toddler boy in his car seat, a cowboy hat in his lap, stuffed animal in his arms. He was being driven by his caseworker from his previous home to Andrew and Karis's apartment building.
"He's two and a half hours away," "an hour away," then finally, "We're going dark. Going downstairs to wait."
From a distance we cheered them on then waited while they received this little boy who would become their very own child. Waiting was difficult and seemed to last too long. My daughter Megan joked that we should have brought a deck of playing cards, as, even though we were just texting, we felt like we were in a hospital waiting room not able to see a new baby until the family had its bonding time. But it was necessary that they shut out the rest of us as their boy arrived.
In this season of Advent (season of Arrival), we remember how Christ arrived to earth, a time for which many were longing and waiting, and we look for his now-arrival: how is Jesus showing himself to us today? We wish one another merriness, hope, and love. We cheer each other on toward Jesus, reminding each other of the richness of the Gift. But no one can receive the Gift for us. Jesus is a present and is present not only for all of us but also for each of us.
I've heard Advent described as a time of "sweet longing." Those words stay with me as I recall the events of that Monday in December. I think almost nothing is sweeter than to see hope fulfilled.
I find that I, too, want to shut myself off from other messages, run to the lobby, look out the window and wait for the Gift, given unto me.
Diane Mann
2016
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