Restless Waiting

There's been a lot on my mind this week. I don't really know how to express any of it.

Gaudete week is all about rejoicing. I heard it described recently as peeking around the corner into the living room on Christmas Eve, if only out of pure longing.

And then the pastor at the parish Newman is now incorporated in said that we need to reflect on the gift of Christian joy, so that we might better radiate it to others. But in the midst of all that, he asked why we weren't weeping for those that didn't know or rejected the love of God.

Ever the reverent soul, I snickered. In the front pew. Thankfully, only one of my friends noticed, and she understood.

You know, I've been through Romans a few times thanks to daily Mass and my own studying a few years back, but a friend pointed out a verse to me last night that I somehow never noticed before. Paul writes:

I have great sorrow and constant anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were accursed and separated from Christ for the sake of my brothers...

I had to read that twice before I understood. Even Paul felt like throwing the whole thing away now and then. In some strange way, that's consoling for me.

This is just a messy time of year -- so much peace and wonder and insanity that comes when we stuff my whole clan into one house. Yet there's always that itch in my bones that never really goes away -- it's magick and "Ole Scratch" convincing me now and then that things would be so much simpler if I just did things my way.

But we all know where that landed me, aye? Thankfully I'm used to this needling in early winter, and it passes quickly. I've learned to shrug it off and pay close attention to Advent in moments like these. After all, He did come for the restless ones probably most of all. And that's something to rejoice over.

Patience, I tell myself. It's almost time.