Advent

For the past week we have been at my mother and step-father's house hanging out and getting ready for our departure. It's been great to spend quality time with family and just relax. I'm very appreciative of this time and have been trying to soak it all in because I know that within a very short period of time all of this will be behind me.

At the same time, there is a little bit of apprehension during this time because we're just sort of waiting. I think the whole family feels the strain of the waiting because the immediacy of our departure seems to sort of put a shadow on everything that we do.

I'm not the greatest at waiting, as patience has never been my strong-suit. I generally like to just cut to the chase and I often find myself constantly moving through life anticipating the next thing that's coming around. Obviously, that's not the best way to live because while I'm waiting for the next thing, I'm missing out on what's currently going on. We talked a little bit about the topic of waiting in our MKLM training and I recognized my lack of skill in this area. I pulled the quote below from one of our better trainings, which was conducted by Rev. Larry Lewis who has written several books on the topic of waiting. I find solace in knowing that there is something special in this time of anticipation and I hope that I can slow down, take time to enjoy the moments, and recognize my blessings.

Not to push the days, the seasons,
Not to strain for tomorrow.
Let be.
What if these were the end?
From the fancied gasping plunge in the void
Turn with relief
To a leaf
To a flower or a bird,
To anything that is and is naught,
And note how even the gloom
Of that lowering cloud
Brings out and deepens
The colors of the world,
Colors unburdened and freed
From the flattening stress
Of excessive glare.
Not for me the labored pretense
Of eternal optimism,
Of perpetual looking forward
With unwearied eagerness.
Now is all that is left
From all the pregnant futures
Of the immemorial past.
Now is it- or never.
Now is the greenery of trees
And laughing girls and bees,
The pain of scars and of memories.
Now is to hold and to savor.
Such as it is, look,
Look your fill and hark
Before the screen goes dark.

-Samuel Kaufman, "Acceptance," in American Journal of Psychoanalysis, Vol. 37, No.4 (1977), p. 352.