Messy Time

It is that messy time of year. A pile of half-finished Christmas letters are waiting for attention on the bedroom floor. I hate it when I discover that some addresses are missing; more mess. Why do people move? It is so inconvenient for me.

A massive invasion of snowmen are currently milling about, all askew, on counters and tables, window sills and even the floor. Making matters worse, a few dozen Swedish Tomten and Julbokken are jockeying for position and small skirmishes have broken out. Snowmen and Tomten should get along but not if both want to end up occupying the same territory. Oh, it is a mess.

Meanwhile, the Thanksgiving turkeys are just now retreating and some of the summer decor is making a mess on the kitchen table -- we couldn't eat there if we wanted to -- while waiting to be retired to their off-seasonal drawers and cupboards in the basement. Everything is up for grabs.

And this doesn't even take into consideration the baking and cooking and gifting items that will be searching for space soon.

Jesus, dare I admit it, is still in a box and the wise men are wandering. Shepherds are shuffling after sheep and Mary and Joseph are bogged down en route.

Yes, it is that messy time of year. Why on earth? Why make such a fuss?

Advent. Advent is the season we begin on Sunday and "Advent" means "coming."  Jesus is coming (not to mention all the rest).

Jesus is coming and it is worth making a fuss. Of preparation. Some of it whimsical and seemingly unrelated. It is cause for celebration. It is messy, waiting. Waiting for a baby.

Most of all, our souls are a little messy, distracted. It is tempting for me to get carried away with the Tomten.

My soul is messy, daring to hope for the Good News to invade my life again. It is necessary for transformation. Making room, taking out the old, bringing in the new. Daring to hope for the Good News, for Jesus to take up new space in my heart and mind. Putting away the turkeys in my life and making room for deeper commitment, more trust, and greater love. May it be so. 

Stir up your power, O Lord, and come to our messy, waiting hearts. Fill our lives with you. Just you.

Jan Erickson Pearson

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