WAITING ...

Advent  -  that season in the Christian church's calendar marking the four weeks of waiting and preparation before the birth of the infant Jesus  - coincides in the southern hemisphere with the start of the monarch butterfly's active cycle. It's a telling parallel - a visible reminder of the value of waiting in a world that has become so desperately impatient.

I went to town today to do some banking ... there were lots of people queuing - a few waiting with good humour but most others with impatient looks and much shuffling of papers or exasperated sighs. When my transaction had been completed, I walked to the stairs taking me back to my car, and saw a young father, toddler at hand, walking slowly down the stairs. Waiting for the little one to navigate each step, he patiently encouraged his child's tentative progress without a hint of annoyance or rushing. No wonder the little boy was full of smiles when they reached the bottom of the stairs.

Waiting is not popular in our wild western world - we are hurry sick - we want everything 'now' -  smart phones to connect us instantly with anyone, anywhere; we expect immediate aid when disaster strikes, or central or local government is blamed; we speak more quickly and eat 'fast food', get involved in 'road rage' and seek high speed air or train travel; and, ironically, we marvel at how quickly the months are passing, as if somehow time has changed its pace and we have no say in the matter.

Is it surprising then that, coupled with our fast-paced life and impatience with anything that stops us doing what we want to do as soon as we want to do it, we are seeing a decrease in mental health and overall well-being. Are we so out of touch with the natural rhythms of creation that we fail to see the virtue of waiting?

And is it surprising that a 'push-back' is emerging - people opting for 'slow food' and a quieter lifestyle, yearning for simplicity and putting quality time into building relationships with others, with themselves, with the land and environment, and for many, with something or someone they might consider 'sacred'?

So it's back to the monarch butterflies - a newly-hatched monarch butterfly emerges from its cocoon wet and wrinkly. It can take hours for the wings to dry, gently unfurl, plump up and gather strength ready for the miracle of flight. If we try to hurry this waiting process by 'helping' the butterfly untangle itself, irreparable harm is done - and all that time in the cocoon will come to
nothing but damage and death.

Each year in the season of Advent we are reminded of the value of waiting, of anticipating, of letting ourselves hope and yearn and look forward. And for those who follow the Way of Christ, waiting brings into sharper focus the coming of God into the world in a form we can all embrace - a tiny child  - Jesus -  through whom the vulnerability and power of  Love could be expressed in the context of an ordinary human life  - just like yours and mine.

That's worth waiting for!

Shells

SHELLS ...

When I was younger I loved walking on the beach and collecting shells - large or small, so long as they were uninhabited!
Maybe you did that too, or have introduced grandchildren, or friends visiting from overseas, to the beauty of the shells beside your favourite piece of coastline. .
Maybe you even have a collection of shells stored away or enhancing the watery theme of your bathroom!

Back then, I used to keep only the shells that were perfect  - no bits broken off by the action of waves or rocks;
no rough edges or holes spoiling the smooth shapes.

My collection - like my life - had to be 'perfect'.

But over the years that has changed.

As I've got older I've come to realise that broken shells have a beauty all their own.
They show the reality of the environment in which they find themselves - the effects of powers far stronger than their own; the cracks made by the impact of events beyond their control; the holes in the exterior worn through to reveal something of the complex shapes hidden within.

And that's what matters to me now - to be able to catch a glimpse of the inner beauty  - the curves and spirals and the shining surfaces revealed as the exterior shell crumbles.

So next time you are feeling a bit rough around the edges, or buffeted by events or forces beyond your control, you may like to think of these less than perfect seas shells and be thankful  -
that  something of your inner beauty - and the beauty of others - can be revealed through brokenness;
that God chose to reveal the extent of God's love in the brokenness of Jesus the Christ, God with us.