I've been waiting for Advent for weeks.
It's strange, I suppose, to anticipate and wait for a season that is all about anticipation and waiting.
Holidays, I find, are too quick. One day of celebration and it's over. Advent is a season. I need the time to marinate. Advent is like a walk in the woods- there's time for marveling at big trees, dipping toes in the stream, a picnic, bouldering to the highest point, and maybe even a nap in a sundrenched clearing.
Advent is about remembering how to be and become more human.
Advent gives us four weeks to find light in dark places, to remember that wandering and searching have both purpose and an end, to remember promises and long for their fulfillment, to be human in all humility and glory, to find hope in unexpected places, to be near to God, and yet feel not near enough. It brings out our every longing and need, and yet doesn't leave us vulnerable or taken advantage of- it mysteriously holds both our needs and their fulfillment in the same breath. It gives us hunger while it cooks us a feast. We are safe to long for, anticipate, and even expect, and that honesty and security is a gift.
As much as I enjoy this season, perhaps the greatest glory of Advent is that it ends.