A dark room is still used for most photo development. The real picture, color, and story really
comes through after an appropriate season of darkness. It is not meant for harm. It is for development. Advent is like the period of darkness where
we watch and wait for the full beautiful picture to unfold. And waiting in the
dark is brutal for most of us. Here’s
our story. Go ahead and grab your coffee or Moscow mule and settle in…
We sold our house and had to be out on 11/23. We closed on
our new house on 12/4, however, because of some repairs and painting, we will
not move in until Wed 12/9. So we will
have been “homeless” just over 2 weeks.
And even though there was vacancy, it feels like there is no room in the
Brentwood Residence Inn. We are crammed
in here with each other’s dysfunction just pouring out on each other. We spent the first week visiting family out of
town, so we checked in here already with some traveling scars – you know – the
residual of those uncomfortable family interactions and avoidance, 11 + hours
in a car each way, a barfing kid in the car after being in one spot in traffic
for over an hour, almost hitting a 12 point buck just a few miles from home,
and then wearing my husband’s underwear the next day because all my clothes got
wet from the supposed waterproof luggage rack.
No, we didn’t ride a donkey here, and we’re not sleeping on hay, but I
kind of get it. It has been dark and
uncomfortable – not what we planned. And
if feels like there is no room in this inn for hope, comfort, and joy of the
season. I’m driving by houses with lights and Christmas trees and feeling a little
displaced. I’m still in the dark –
waiting for the lights. So I bought this tiny poinsettia for our room. I’m
bringing some Christmas joy up in here, dang it!
And my intent is not to complain. We just bought a cute and cozy home in
Williamson County, a beloved area and school district in our state. So, “oh woe is me – I have to wait for
painters to finish my happy home in cushy Franklin.” Right? I absolutely cringe
when I think of people living on streets, hospitals, and orphanages. So then I think “stop complaining, suck it
up, you’re fine.” And this also gets me
in trouble. This isn’t about a
comparison. I can have compassion for them AND me. Our dark is obviously different. And I can still honor the darkness we each go
through. We are all in need of the Light. I can only hold and know my own darkness and
tell its story. And it’s not about “I
can’t get in my new house yet.” It is
the pain of transition. It is the
discomfort of waiting. It is feeling
displaced and alone. It is my season of
advent. But then someone will text and say, “hey I’m bringing your family some
papa murphy’s pizza at the hotel.” Or a teacher from the boys’ school emails to
say, “bring your boys over to play – we’ve been in your situation before and
know you need space.” It’s another family taking our children in for a night so
we can go on a long overdue date. The
shepherds and wisemen show up with comfort and gifts. I take a lot of deep breaths to remind myself
we won’t be in transition forever. This
is just a season. I am thankful for a Savior who came to this world as a human,
fully feeling and experiencing life like the rest of us. His birth teaches me
that all hope and growth starts in the dark.
THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE. LIGHT COMES EVENTUALLY. WAIT EXPECTANTLY, DEAR FRIENDS.
