There's something about the Advent season that awakens me, a cold, brisk wind pushing across my soul. Maybe it's the change in liturgy. Or the change in seasons. Or just change.
I find myself wanting to write again. I look for the beauty that swells just beneath the surface during this season. The anticipation is ripe, full, bursting with color and flavor.
This really has not much to do with Christmas as it is celebrated here. Not shopping and crowds. Lights and decorations only tread lightly, leaving not much of a footprint. No, this is a mystery, full-fledged, waiting to break forth.
In Advent, we wait for what has already come, and we wait for what is yet to come.
And in that sense, Advent is not over yet. Though Christmas has come, and Advent is another year away, still we wait.
Even so, come Lord Jesus.