embrace the season.

 {from here}

Yesterday afternoon, I listened to a recent sermon by Rob Bell, all about the advent and this time of anticipation and waiting.

And I thought about the predicament I’ve found myself in these last months, about things not turning out quite like I hoped. I thought about graduate school and broken computers and disassembled plans and fractured relationships. And I realized that in this season of waiting for the Savior, I am also waiting on other things.

I am waiting on peace. On clarity. On placement. On new beginnings.

If the comments I keep getting — on this blog and in person — are any indication, no one likes being in a funk. We humans prefer being comfortable and happy, well cared for and safe.

But the seasons of life are just that: seasons.

There are days that feel like spring, full of fresh starts and excitement. Uncertainty combined with the hope of adventure and promises.

Days that feel like summer, lazy and long and wandering.

There are days like autumn, quiet and charged with change. A hint of things to come.

And there is winter. Cold and solemn and a little bit in-your-face.

This season deserves my attention.

God is moving and working and breathing in these difficult moments.

And I’ll admit that I haven’t been paying much attention.

I’ve just been ready to get through this stage. Ready for the days when I don’t drop my cell phone or wreck my car at Whataburger or spill hot chocolate on my computer.

No one likes to be in a funk. No one likes hard days or thousand dollar mistakes or hurt feelings.

But no season should be rushed through. Each day needs to be experienced, relished, and treasured. And while God is working in this season and in these moments, I am learning. About myself. How I react. Who I am.

The Advent season is designed for waiting and anticipation. It’s all about awareness.

I think that’s what this particular season of my life is about, too.

At the close of his sermon, Rob Bell read aloud this oath that members of the congregation could take this holiday season.

I, ___________, hereby do solemnly swear to not lose the plot this Christmas season. I will not worry, complain, or stress over gift giving, traffic, parties, spiked eggnog or generally annoying busyness. In the spirit of Advent, I will slow down, be still, awake, and aware of the Divine Mystery that looks so common and so ordinary yet is wondrously present.

Perhaps my own oath could look like this:

I, Annie B. Jones, hereby do solemnly swear to not lose the plot during my “quarterlife crisis.” I will not worry, complain, or stress over broken laptops, silly plans, graduate school dreams, or anything else that might be clouding my vision. In the spirit of anticipation and waiting, I will slow down, be still, awake, and aware of the Divine Mystery that looks so common and so ordinary, yet is wondrously present, even in the difficult moments.

Amen.