A Slower Advent

Happy Advent!

I usually only post during Lent and about my books, but I wanted to share a talk my daughter Jennifer Friend gave at a ladies’ luncheon at church:

Good morning, everyone,

We have all just heard a bunch of wonderful and beautiful ideas for how to celebrate Advent with your families, and I know I could call on just about anyone in the room to come up and tell us even more ideas we haven’t heard yet…

But this is a busy time of year for moms… in many families it is often the mom making the magic happen for her family in December. It is a joy and a privilege to do so, but it can also be exhausting!

I want to give you permission to do something quite radical this year…

I want to give you permission to do… less.

Jesus will still be born at Christmas if all you do this year is a really intentional Advent Wreath tradition.

Jesus will still be born at Christmas even if all you do this year is a faithful observance of the various saint feast days in December. Or if you just pull out a book to read each day instead of individually gift-wrapping 24 books to open and read throughout Advent!

Jesus will still be born at Christmas even if all you do is a really great Jesse tree. And really, Jesus will still be born at Christmas even if you can only manage a mediocre Jesse tree! If something is truly worth doing, it’s even worth doing badly!

Maybe you have a new baby! Or perhaps you lost a loved one this year! Or someone is searching for a job! Or you are a grandma for the first time this year!

Emmanuel…     God with us…   Emmanuel is not diminished by the season of life we are in!

A couple of years ago we pulled out our Advent tub and tried to do it all. Each kid chose a different Jesse tree, we had a new Advent Wreath program for readings, various grandmas sent us new Advent calendars, we had fancy paper ornaments for each saint feast day to print out and color and then cut out and assemble, not to mention more secular traditions for December! We would get up each Advent day and go through each Jesse tree, one kid putting up a sticker, another a magnet, another something on the fridge, another hanging up a tiny book, and none of the readings lined up with each other, then we had to update each Advent calendar, and we were too busy to enjoy the coloring of the saint ornaments, and too tired to assemble them, and then we had to get ready to head to the next December event for the day!

It was tiring, and I was probably not the most patient mother that year.

This year, dare to be different. YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO IT ALL! If your little ones are still young, and you have ideas for 10 different traditions you have heard this morning, you DO NOT need to start every single new tradition this year! Try ONE! Write the rest of the ideas down on a piece of paper and tape it to your Christmas or Advent tub to look at next year!

If you are a grandma, you don’t have to think of every tradition you’d like your grandkids to grow up with. Don’t pressure your adult children to continue every tradition they grew up with. Let them try to do less this year, if they need to. Let them establish their own traditions. It doesn’t mean that they don’t treasure the childhood traditions you chose for them growing up!

If your kids are somewhere in between… not tiny, but not yet grown… get them involved! Ask them to help you choose which 1 or 2 Advent traditions they would like to try this year! What a healthy life skill to be instilling now!

Saying no to something good this year doesn’t mean you are saying no to it forever! You can take a break for a year and decide again what to try next year!

I am going to borrow some wisdom from Sarah Mackenzie and encourage you to keep in mind three beautiful missions this year. They are true for a healthy homeschool, and I think they apply beautifully to any family and any liturgical season…

1 – DO LESS,

2 – AS CONSISTENTLY AS YOU ARE ABLE, and

3 – PUT RELATIONSHIPS FIRST.

That’s all. Consider these three as you make decisions about how to celebrate Advent with your family this year. Do less, as consistently as you can manage in the season of life that you are in and be sure to keep relationships on the front burner, not the back burner. Relationships not only with your family and friends, but also with the God who so desperately desires you to slow down enough to see Him.

Give your family the gift of a Mama that isn’t staying up until midnight or beyond stressing over the next day. Give your family the gift of a more rested woman who chose to focus her energy on doing one or two things well, rather than trying to do it all and having no patience left for the people she loves. If you’re married, give your spouse the gift of a wife who isn’t 110% focused on the kids at this time of year. Find ways to make it a little easier on yourself, so that you too get to enjoy the ‘waiting in hope’. So that you get to enjoy the season as well, and that you will have room at the inn of your heart for Jesus to be born this Christmas.

The Advent that your family experiences this year will be greatly enriched if they get to see you slow down and cherish this beautiful season for yourself. Do less, as consistently as you are able, and put relationships first.

See Jesus through Suffering

Our elderly Frank continues to tell his story:

Sometimes, pain forces our attention on God. Not that God gives us pain, but evil, poor choices, and our broken world do. Yet, God can take our suffering and turn it into good. He might utilize a trauma to help us realize how much we depend on God, and how little we can do without Him. That’s the way it was for my son.

Daniel and I were arguing in the middle of the street. Suddenly, a car careened around the corner and skidded toward us. Daniel had his back to it and, consumed by his own anger, wasn’t paying attention. I grabbed his jacket, pushing him as hard as I could out of the way, and shouted, “God, save my son!” He was bigger than me by that age, but I firmly believe God gave me extra strength. I had succeeded in getting him out of the path of the car, but it hit me and threw me into the air. I don’t remember anything after that, until a few days later when I woke in the hospital, so the rest of this story is what my son told me.

Daniel called 911, screaming for an ambulance, not only for me, but for several members of his football team in the car, which had hit a tree after hitting me. I’m told he stayed at my side at the hospital, terrified that I would die. And maybe it was touch and go for a while there. I had broken a hip and two ribs and lay in a concussion-induced coma.

According to my son, he railed against God, demanding to know why He’d let this happen. Wasn’t it enough that he didn’t have a mother? Would God take his father, too, a father who, in my son’s words, had served God so diligently? If so, Daniel reasoned, if I died, he didn’t want to have a God that was that mean. He’d never believe in God again. He was determined to renounce his faith.

By the third day, things weren’t looking good for my recovery. The doctors had started trying to prepare him for the worst. Terrified, he realized he needed a world where miracles were possible. He needed a God who could heal. Daniel, in desperation, made a pact with God to return to his faith and become a priest if God would spare my life. Soon after that, I awoke. That timing, that answer to prayer, was more than a miracle for me. It worked miraculously in Daniel’s heart and soul, too. Little did I know that when I begged, “God, save my son,” He would save him spiritually as well as physically.

Five key players of the football team were hurt badly enough to require weeks to recover. The coach decided to forfeit the season, partially as a lesson to the whole team about underage drinking and driving, and about making choices to promote one’s health. Daniel immersed himself in his faith with his newfound time. True to his word, he returned to our morning Masses. He studied the Bible. He joined the Youth Group and would tell his story to anyone who would listen. He began to research colleges with seminary programs. He’d found his own Savior, and more importantly, his Friend. He admitted to being pretty fond of me, too, and happy to have me safe.

Betty here:

Of course, we don’t often experience miraculous deliverance from our suffering, but when we reach out to God from our pain, He answers and fills us with His Grace. He comforts and accompanies us throughout our agony. The psalmist says, “Though I walk through the valley of death, I will fear no evil, for He is at my side.” (23:4)

Jesus knows suffering. He experienced torture and death, dying to prevent us from suffering in the next life. Whenever we look at a cross, we see Jesus and can remember what He went through, for us. As children, we might have been told to “offer it up.” By joining our suffering to Christ’s, it becomes an act of love.

Here are a few other thoughts on suffering from the New Testament:

• He will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more.” (Revelation 21:4)
• And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. (Romans 5:2-4)
• Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. (Romans 8:17)
• To this you were called, because Christ suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps. (1 Peter 2:21)
• And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm, and steadfast. (1 Peter 5:10)

See Jesus in Ourselves

Frank, the wise elderly priest, continues to tell us how he’s come to see Jesus in his life:

One of my favorite blessings as a priest came with the honor of listening to people’s confessions. You might be surprised at that, but sharing such a sacramental moment with anyone is a gift. Sometimes people come in during confessional hours and you can tell they want to get in and out as quickly as possible. But most people, once they’ve said what they need to say, are open to the many graces God wants to shower on them. And the people who make an appointment for confession off-hours are often hungry for such grace and any spiritual counseling that I’m moved to offer.

Many people come to the confessional weighed down by guilt and feeling very bad about themselves. I listen, not for my own knowledge, but as a conduit connecting God and the parishioner. Their words, both the penitent’s and God’s, flow through me, and I frequently am amazed at how the Spirit directs my response to them. You’d think after so many years as a priest I’d be used to it, but I still often wonder, did I just say that? Where did that come from? It certainly isn’t my own wisdom, but that of the Spirit. Being used that way, for the healing of a sorrowful soul, is one of the greatest gifts of the priesthood!

I don’t want the penitent to leave while weighed down by what they’ve just told me. I want them to realize what a blessed child of God they are, so there’s a question I’ve always loved asking people before I give them their penance and send them on their way.

I say, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Jesus.” Well, usually they start telling me when they’ve been the least like Him. So, I interrupt and say again, “Tell me when you’ve been most like Him.”

I hear quite humbling answers.

One woman said, “When I overlook my husband’s little irritating idiosyncrasies and just love him as he is.”

Another said, “When I’m up in the middle of the night with my infant, and she’s crying, and I’m exhausted but I cuddle her and coo to her and rock her until she falls asleep. I think that’s what Jesus must long to do with us when we aren’t behaving. So often we misbehave because we are tired or hungry or don’t feel loved. But He’s right there holding us and loving us through the hard times.”

So much truth rests in that wise young woman’s words. But women aren’t the only ones who are Christ-like. One man told me, “My joints hurt most of the time. I’ve had severe arthritis for years, but I try not to complain. I think about Jesus and how He suffered for me, and I thank Him, and then the pain doesn’t seem intolerable.”

Another man had a hard time letting go of all the times he’d missed the mark. I had to repeat my question several times, but finally he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and said, “I’m divorced. I didn’t want it, but I am, and sadly, my ex-wife is very angry with me, so she belittles me in front of the kids. I’m most like Jesus when I resist the temptation to do the same about her. He never returned anything but good for evil. I try to remind myself of that, and I try to tell the kids about her good qualities. I don’t want them to think that whatever part of them comes from her isn’t anything but wonderful.”

The elderly man paused and looked at Pedra, who had been recording his words in shorthand as quickly as he spoke.

“How about you, Pedra,” he asked, “when have you been most like Jesus?”

Pedra looked up from her notepad, then looked down again, not wanting to meet Frank’s gaze. She could feel her cheeks burn, and her first thoughts were all the ways she wasn’t like Jesus at all. Frank let her relax into his silence and simply waited. Finally, she said, “I’m most like Jesus when I’m in this room, listening to your stories, and completely enjoying being with you. I hope He enjoys being with me, but I am absolutely sure He enjoys being with you, Frank.”

“Pedra,” Frank answered, “you have no idea how wonderful you are. And I don’t have much time left to convince you. But you are. You make me feel like there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. That’s a remarkable gift of friendship. And I promise you, Jesus loves being with you, listening to you confide in Him, sharing your friendship. He loves you, Pedra, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in who we are right now.”

She looked at the good man through tears in her eyes.

“Go home,” he said. “Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful.”

Betty here. What more can I say? Go home. Talk to God. Listen to Him. Let Him show you all the ways you are wonderful. He loves you, just the way you are right now. He doesn’t need you to be perfect. He’ll aways encourage us to be better, but He also delights in how we are right now.

See Jesus in yourself.