Crazy Advent

One of the joys of using Playmobil Nativity people is that they are of the right size to interact with other toys.  The creature hiding behind the stable keeps showing up in our nativity...

This week my Advent has kind of felt like there was a giant alien bug hiding behind all the Christmas preparations.

Last week I went in for some minor dental work and got walloped with "the tooth from heck" as my dentist so delicately put it.  By the end of that encounter I had laser gum surgery, a shaved bone, and air in my cheek (not in my mouth, inside my cheek). 

I was an airhead for a few days, but I'm feeling muuuuch better now.  Except that today I had to go back in with a raging gum infection.  I'm glad I live in the time of antibiotics.

Back to last Friday: I was hardly off the pain killers when I got the news that Fr. Pinto had died.  Later that day, my father-in-law went into the hospital with a fever they couldn't control.  The fever broke today, thanks be to God, but prayers for his recovery would be appreciated.

What to make of all this in Advent? 

A parish near me uses blue for Advent instead of purple and pink.  Klenda asked the priest on Gaudete Sunday, why no pink?  He told her that the pink was there to offset the penitential purple, but that Advent wasn't really a penitential time, so they just use blue and therefore don't need the pink..

That's wrong, of course.  The Church has spoken on that one: we use purple because it's a penitential season.  Pink represents joy.  So, he's right about something very basic to the spiritual life: when you skip the penance, you lose the joy.

What does that have to do with my aching gums and battered heart?  Two things.  The first was that when I went in to get that minor dental work done, I was thinking of Annabelle's sister Julie. 

Annabelle comments pretty frequently on my blog, and she happened to mention that she was having a tough Advent because her sister was diagnosed with cancer.   I looked her up on Caring Bridge, and saw that Julie has a cancer that is difficult if not impossible to cure, and she has kids my kids age and younger - her youngest is 2. 

Anyway, I thought I'd offer up any pain or discomfort from having my loose crown fixed for Julie.  Little did I know!  But it's awfully little compared to what she's going through, and it's a gift I can give to the Christ Child.  Essentially, it's a suffering (a penance, if you will) that I chose willingly, if occasionally whinily!

The second thing: What about all this extra suffering?  I didn't choose to suffer my friend's death, or my dear father-in-law's illness.  Why these unlooked for, unchosen "penances" in Advent? 

There is a saying that sorrow carves in your heart the space that joy will fill. 

Put another way, you can't have a resurrection without a death.

This has been a pain that shocked me out of my own busy preparations.  I was at the pharmacy today, waiting for my new antibiotic, and I really looked at the people around me.  It seems so often, I am so busy, I don't really notice other people, especially people in pain.  That's what I saw: people in pain, people who could use a kind word, the suffering Jesus.

These sorrowful Advent experiences have opened my heart to others, and therefore to Christ, in a way I don't think I've ever been, and I'm grateful for that.