One of our family’s catchphrases is, ‘You’re either a
Steenbock or a Morrison.’ Steenbock is my maiden name, and if you are a Steenbock,
you will always choose to be early, wherever you are going. If you are a
Morrison, you will try to squeeze in one more thing before leaving for the
appointment, airport, train station, whatever.
It has led to disagreements in the past. Now Don knows, it’s
easier to just go along with the Steenbock. So he took Mhairi to the train
station this morning, at least a good twenty minutes earlier than he would have
chosen to leave for it himself…
Advent. Season of waiting. Generally, nobody likes to wait;
to be ‘kept waiting’ is impolite, rude. But in Advent, God himself keeps us
waiting, a deliberate period of waiting to allow time for reflection, for
drawing near, for being still. Advent is
a time of settling in to the wait to commemorate Jesus’ entrance into the world
as one of us.
As a mother of four, I have spent a good amount of time
waiting. Routine medical appointments, sports, clubs, social visits, whatever. As
the daughter of a centenarian, I spend a few hours every year in airports,
waiting. I have a lot of experience waiting, but it can still be a challenge, especially
when awaiting a hoped-for outcome.
We are all in heaven’s waiting room, but some of us are
closer to the door than others. I think of my dear Mom, having lost so much
independence, spending most of her days dozing, awaiting her Saviour’s voice
calling her on. She waits in hope, in love, and, I pray, in peace.
Be still and know that I am God. May we all learn the art of
waiting. May our Advent season be sanctified by the promise and hope of Immanuel,
God with us.
