Welcome to the season of Advent, which means “coming” in Latin. The Christian church designates the four Sundays before Christmas as Advent, a time of waiting for the coming of Emmanuel, another name for Jesus, a name that means “God with us.”
I received several notices of special Advent devotionals on waiting this year. Yet, I realized, this Advent for me is less about waiting for what is to come and more about recovering from what already came this year.
One year ago, we were waiting on doctors and diagnoses for Chuck. And I have already been feeling the PTSD of that waiting and what it led to – hearing “You need another open-heart surgery,” waiting to get it scheduled, waiting for the surgery date to arrive. Waiting during his surgery.
Waiting following a massive stroke right after surgery.
No, I’m not waiting for something this year. I’m needing to heal from all the waiting this year.
Then God gave me an unconventional Advent devotional. I purchased a book called God Is at Eye Level two Decembers ago, and on my shelf it has sat, largely unread. Until it called to me last week, and I reread the subtitle: Photography as a Healing Art.
Yes, that’s the Advent devotional I need this year.
I wasn’t sure how I would use it, but, as I paged through the book, certain phrases jumped out at me. The first being the very first thing written on the Introduction page, a quote:
“There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle or the mirror that reflects it.”
Edith Wharton
Suddenly, I knew that was what I needed to photograph – and I already had the image in my house. For Christmas I set four pillar candles (don’t worry, they’re battery-operated) on an antique organ which has decorative beveled edge mirrors on the upper shelf. I tried framing the photo several ways and finally found the one that was the image representation of those words.
And now I knew how this book on photography was going to be my Advent devotional. And how it would heal me.
As the author writes, photography heals. It heals “when I am in search of the image, present only to that which is, focused on the moment at hand. By virtue of this absorption in the now, I am released from the often painful grip of past and future.”
Each night I read a page or two until the next line or quote reveals itself to me. Since that first photo, though, I haven’t known what image would represent it. Each morning I wake up with the words I read the night before and go through my day wondering what photo God will give me. So far, they have included a sunrise, a snowstorm, and Cody studying Christmas ornaments on the tree.
Yesterday’s words came from the author talking about trying to make sense of an event that caused great grief. “I went out day after day in search of pictures to portray my struggle to reassemble my life, to regain my footing, and rekindle my joy.”
I knew that feeling…and I knew what image spoke to that feeling for me.
Last weekend, Chuck set up the tree, wrapped it in lights, topped it with the star, plugged it in….and no lit star. The lights about a foot below it don’t work either so obviously there’s an issue somewhere. And this year, we just don’t care so that’s how it has stayed.
It reminded me of quote by Anne Lamott: “Almost everything will work again if you unplug it for a few minutes…including you.” Almost everything.
I feel unplugged, although not by choice. More accurately, similar to the star, I have a short in the cord somewhere and I’m just sitting here unlit, dark.
Don’t worry, I’m not depressed.
…I’m just still.
A very deep, deep stillness. A quiet like the depths of the ocean.
The kind of stillness and quiet, I think, that makes us uncomfortable. That we fight against experiencing. Running from it, trying to find more to fill our days, to fill that silence so we don’t have to hear it.
This week, this Advent, I have chosen to sit in that silence though. To hold the words from God Is at Eye Level and wait for Him to show me what they literally look like in my daily life. To let go of the past and be focused only on the moment at hand. To be amazed by the infinite ways God is trying to talk to me throughout the week, each and every day. Each and every hour. If I would just be comfortable with the silence.
As it turns out I am actually waiting this Advent season. Waiting every day to see what line in the book speaks to me, for what scene I’ll see in my day that is the image of those words from the book. Waiting to see how God appears, revealing that He is in fact with me.
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
“O come, O come, Emmanuel,” Words: Author unknown
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here,
Until the Son of God appear.
Leave a Reply