A Real-Life Advent

Well, I have decided that having a clean house is way overrated. Honestly, I spend part of the day witnessing it being made a mess of (and participating in same myself), and then part of the day getting it back into some semblance of order. The mess making brings great joy to my children, as the furniture becomes forts and bookstores and military outposts and cars and airplanes and several other things. My mess making is primary that of putting things in the first place possible because I'm being called to do two other things.

I suffer from the syndrome of things I think I should be doing. And for some reason, Advent really seems to kick this syndrome into high gear. I have never been one to get really festive (I think the festive gene skipped me), so I don't really obsess over baking, decorating (hah! what's that?!), crafting or any of those other lovely things that fill other homes with beauty. But think: If you knew that your life would be ending sometime within the next 15 days, would you have a strong desire to literally get your house in order? I mean, to get all those bits of paper, stray books, odd buttons, old mail, vitamin bottles and pens organized on that hutch shelf? If I were nervous, yeah, I suppose I could burn off some nervous energy that way. But if I were, say, me, my gravitation would be toward quiet time with my heart and my thoughts to prepare myself for such a great event.

So, that's why I'm blogging instead of making cookie dough or washing my floor.

Or, it could be because I'm lazy and/or tired out from taking care all day long.

It's hard to know the human heart precisely; at least it is for me and this human heart.

I am slowly getting out of the habit of living my life as an abstraction. Of thinking, Ok, it's Advent now, so time to hit the Advent button for a feeling, mood and productivity shift. I have this idea of what I "should be doing," and then this reality of what I actually do. The "should" idea is an abstraction. If I lived as a character in a novel somewhere, I would do xyz as a Catholic living Advent. I would have a house that didn't get re-messed, I would prepare a fridge full of food in advance of Christmas day (and the 12 thereafter) and wouldn't have to worry about meals before then, or space, or spoilage. All clutter would vanish and my home would suddenly look warm and festive, with candles that never got shorter, guests comfortably sipping warm cider or egg nog (not where I can see it, though, please), smiles on every face, prayer and peace in every heart. I would cook, bake and clean and never grow tired, and my children would not make noise or excessive demands. Oh, and my husband would be a character in this play as well -- who needs him to keep working and pay the bills, right?

It's a pretty picture, but that's all it is, of course. It looks absolutely nothing like our real life. And that is the life which the King of Kings desires to be born anew into, and it is the life we have to prepare.

So, I spend what feels like most of my waking hours preparing three meals for myself and my children (hubby shares in the last one, at least), I witness or assist my children in learning, or at least try to prevent them from seriously harming each other, I keep the shelves stocked with clean dishes and the drawers with clean clothes. On a good day, I might work a shower in for myself. I get to Mass, thanks be to God, daily, and we go out to our other errands. I say my prayers, I nurse, wipe noses and... other anatomy, I might sweep the floor, I put videos in the VCR and read instructions for computer games. In my mind, I wrestle with why certain evils exist in the world and what I can do in the face of these, I wonder about those persistent, cowlicky things about myself that weigh down my heart, I multi-task until I can't speak English anymore, and sometimes I scream in frustration.

And this is the life that really is living Advent. My real one.

I start my day every day with a daily offering, giving all of this to the Lord for the salvation of souls. I know that it matters not so much what I do as with Whom, through Whom, and for Whom I do it. The salvation of souls is not my work, but Jesus asks me to give Him my work so He can somehow use it to do His. So I know, I really do know, that there is immense value in what I do, or at least there can be. It seems lately I have gotten into this thinking that, yeah, that's all nice, but what about at least part of that "beautiful" picture. Part of it is the desire for God. Yes. I want Beauty, Truth and Goodness, in ways that I don't possess and that is good. But the problem is when I want to get there by not being me anymore. How tempting to think that grace is really a magic wand, and that God's plan is to transform my pumpkin of a life into a carriage. Transform he does, to be sure. But with real life changes, the little bits of newness for which I am to be on the look out, longing for daily, welcoming.

Like that Little Bit that came to Mary and grew under her heart for nine months and Whose Birth we are preparing to celebrate.