Advent

Every time I hear Handel's Messiah I cry.  My love affair with this three hour piece of music begins in high school when I first hear it performed by Westminster's Ensemble choir and symphony.  Brian Baumgartner, now famous for his role on the Office, slams into a big drum during a performance of "For Unto Us a Child is Born."  Then the entire choir belts out, "And His name shall be called.  Wonderful! Counselor! The Mighty God! The everlasting Father.  The Prince of Peace."  And I am hooked.  My faithful friend and roommate treks over to Duke chapel with me almost every year of college for their performance of the Messiah.  Even my children succumb during a children's performance in Portland.

 Unexpectedly, it is not the Messiah but the Portland band The Decemberists that brings tears to my eyes on this first day of Advent.  Tossing together a plate of Thanksgiving leftovers for the girls,  I slip the newly ordered CD into my laptop. When I actually lived in Portland I didn't listen to this band, but now far away from its culture and place my eyes start brimming with tears.  When the tears start dropping into my children's leftover mac&cheese I hit repeat again.  Why do we do this to ourselves?!?   I decide to just let it ride and enjoy the music.

I've been thinking about Portland a lot this week.  Waking up with an unbelievable urge to take a hike in the Gorge or a walk through a damp forest, I feel almost a physical craving for the landscape.  The irony of this is that, as pangs increase for the people, the place, and the culture of Oregon, an increasing contentment and appreciation for the good gifts God has given us here is growing.  Sometimes I wonder if feeling more love for new people and a new place doesn't decrease the love of previous people and place but rather increases it.  We long for relationship, for intimacy, for home, and yet so often it alludes us.  I might be all wet on this, but I think Colin Meloy is getting at this in his song "Rise to Me."  This song made me weepy at first, because it reminded me of mountains,rivers, and all the natural beauty of Oregon I miss so much.  But after listening to it a few more times I realize that he is singing about relationship and how difficult it can be to get close to people. (If I'm totally wrong, leave a comment!)  We want to know people.  We want home.  We want intimacy. We want relationship.  But can we surmount the obstacles, the hurt, the effort, the forgiveness, and the grace that it costs?

I think this is sometimes the source of people's pain at the holidays. We see a shadow of rest, of home, of the fulfillment of all things, and yet we painfully feel the reality of not yet being there.  We miss people and places that are lost to us while we enjoy the gifts of the now.  We look forward and anticipate while we look back and remember.

Today is the first Sunday in Advent.  We light the prophecy candle today.  At church I make Advent wreaths (AMAZING job, Helen!!!) with the children during the sermon time.  I look into hopeful eager eyes and speak of advent, of 'arrival.'  I sing 'Rock of Ages' with a congregation of people I am growing to know and to love.  The Light of the world shines in the darkness.  He has come into this world and has promised He will come again to redeem all things.





"There are times life will rattle your bones and will bend your limbs," sing the Decemberists.   Life doesn't always break you, but it will rattle and bend you.  We have a Father who holds onto us even when we can't hold onto him. God may call you to unlikely places and to a motley crew of unlikely people.

But His promises are sure.

His grace is sufficient.

And He is Home.