For the Advent week of Hope…
I was sitting outside my office waiting for a few people to come for a meeting. It was quiet as all the other businesses in our building had left for the day.
There I was, me, my office and my thoughts.
I don’t know if you’ve ever read any writers like James Joyce who adhere to a stream of consciousness style but that is a little what that moment felt like.
Kids…big kids…kids with struggles…my kids…friends kids… friends…friendships…my dear friends who are not close this holiday season…immediate work…job…business…community…struggling community…changing community…needs…how the world needs…human limitations…holy beings unlimited.
Walking with my son to pick up some quick dinner in between meetings he said “Mom, how does God show himself? What kind of form does He take?”
Hope has such a grand breadth and depth of meaning but this point of it is sure, hope holds on to that which is more than ones self.
Sitting in the quiet hallway I’m brought back. In this season of preparation hope begs of us to sit in patience. Not in want. Not in fear. Not busyness. In patience.
As I long to be WITH this season, I find this practice of sitting in hope with my own humanity may be the hardest belonging practice of them all.
Above all, trust in the slow work of God.
We are quite naturally impatient in everything
to reach the end without delay.
We should like to skip the intermediate stages.
We are impatient of being on the way to something
unknown, something new.
And yet it is the law of all progress
that it is made by passing through
some stages of instability—
and that it may take a very long time.
And so I think it is with you;
your ideas mature gradually—let them grow,
let them shape themselves, without undue haste.
Don’t try to force them on,
as though you could be today what time
(that is to say, grace and circumstances
acting on your own good will)
will make of you tomorrow.
Only God could say what this new spirit
gradually forming within you will be.
Give Our Lord the benefit of believing
that his hand is leading you,
and accept the anxiety of feeling yourself
in suspense and incomplete.
—Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, SJ