This hasn't been an almost five-year case of writer's block. I've had lots of ideas, but not enough functioning brain cells to string together a decent sentence (sleep is a precious commodity these days). Plus, some little person always wants another snack. However, recent family events have caused enough reflection that even this introvert needs to share.
This Advent was supposed to be great. Our eldest daughter just turned four, meaning she's old enough to start to understand the story of the Nativity and the spirit of Christmas. I had so many Pinterest-inspired ideas for a holy Advent (the former Youth Minister in me was coming back to the surface): we were going to roll our own beeswax Advent candles for the wreath (which we did)! Make lots of donations to local pregnancy resource centers and Giving Tree programs! Try the Giving Manger! Order some fancy Jesse Tree craft! So many ideas... that would consequently cost so many dollars. Midway through the first week of Advent, Ryan came home in the middle of the day, looking sickly pale, and informed me that he'd just been laid-off... and we were now a zero-income household.
Needless to say, all nonessential spending came to a screeching halt and any recent orders were cancelled. The Christmas cards I'd been stressing over the night before? No longer needed. Extra Christmas decorations? The Giving Manger? A wreath for our empty front door? Nope. We've always tried to live frugally, but our already-small budget practically disappeared.
Ryan losing his job is a cross. He bears the heavy pressure of protecting us. It's his responsibility to tirelessly look for a new position so that our family can be well-provided for, while still being an attentive father to three very young daughters. I bear the weight of caring for our family on a teeny budget. There's a pit in our stomachs over the unknown. We don't know if we'll be living this way merely for weeks or for months. We don't know how much our savings will dwindle. We do know, however, that God gives grace for the moment, and so we're taking this one day at a time and entrusting it all to His loving care.
This Advent was supposed to be great. Despite outward appearances, it has been.
Ironically, losing our income has made us feel immediately and deeply grateful. Our marriage is solid. Our children are healthy and happy (until we give them brussel sprouts). We have a lovely home in a wonderful neighborhood. We are free. We have a Savior who loves us and will never abandon us. If our heaviest cross concerns only money, then thank God. It doesn't make sense, but through Ryan's first unemployed evening, we felt inexplicably thankful for our faith, each other, and our children.
Where we stopped spending money, we found time. Instead of staying up late trying to finagle overpriced online Christmas cards (and potentially taking a hammer to my ancient laptop), I'm cuddling my baby and soaking up her little squeals, clicks, and stretches. Instead of trying to explain complicated crafts to my preschooler and toddler, we're pretending to be Disney princesses (over and over and over again). Instead of contemplating just one more decoration or scouring resale shops for another's treasures, I've simply crossed all that unnecessary spending off of my list and refocused on the lovely things we already have. Also, did I mention that I don't have to set foot in another hot, crowded, and noisy mall? Pity.
Most Advents, we'd be patting ourselves on the back after making a financial donation to a local charity (apparently missing the memo about the right hand not knowing what the left hand does). This year, we're learning how to humbly accept charity: an anonymous family graciously sponsored the next two months of our daughter's preschool tuition, neighborhood friends gifted us a Christmas tree, and many others have made generous offers. We realize how profoundly blessed we are by our community, family, and friends.
There've been trying moments. Our normal family routine has gone out the window, which doesn't bode well with toddlers. I'm not exactly known to embrace change. It's really embarrassing to realize how spoiled we are, as our version of "doing without" means we still have plenty of food, heat, and healthcare... and yet I still lament not buying all the seasonal grocery treats. This whole experience has been a bittersweet mirror to my soul: I see both how many wonderful blessings I've been given, and also how regularly I overlook them and want for more.
Tonight, however, the mirror got a little clearer when our family went to a local Christkindlmarkt and Live Nativity. As we strolled through the fair, admiring the local art and smelling the amazing aroma of warm, spiced nuts, I couldn't help feeling sorry for our family. Why did we come here just to look at stuff we can't buy? Moments later, I recognized a young mother whose husband died years ago, just weeks before the birth of their child. As I watched my own husband joyfully hold our daughters' hands and point out the Biblical characters in the creche, I could only imagine the heartache she's suffered. As I write this now, I think of our friends and family members who've endured unbelievable anguish in recent years. There are no words to describe how incredibly stupid I feel for ever grieving the temporary loss of things. I've been given so, so much and am extravagantly rich in the love of my husband, my children, and my Lord.Despite my original plans and anxiety over the unknown, this has been our best Advent. I wanted to spend these four weeks teaching my daughters about Jesus and His holy birth, but instead, He's teaching us. We're learning that all the decorations, shopping, treats, and even well-intentioned catechetical ideas are just fluff (I wish I could say I already knew that, but apparently not). We're remembering that a loving marriage and precious children are our truest blessings.
Even more importantly, we're being challenged to trust that, in good times and in bad, Christ is with us and His love will sustain us. He lovingly directs all things for our good (Romans 8:28) and promises the hope of Eternal Life with Him and all of our loved ones. We have a Lord who carries our crosses with us, and a Blessed Mother who gently guides and protects us as only a mama can. This past week, our Lady of Guadalupe was dear to our hearts as we recalled her words, "Do not be troubled or weighed down with grief. Do not fear any illness or vexation, anxiety or pain. Am I not here who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not your fountain of life? Are you not in the folds of my mantle? In the crossing of my arms? Is there anything else you need?"So here's wishing you and your loved ones a very happy, holy, and simple Advent. May you feel the loving presence of our Lord in all of your blessings and crosses.
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