ad·vent n.
1. The coming or arrival, especially of something extremely important…
Pursuing the diamond in the ruff, the needle in the haystack, the pearl of great price.
Learning what it is to seek first the Kingdom when it is upside down and covered in the gray.
Stilling, quieting, deepening when all is frenzy-filled and hustle and bustle and biggest busy.
But can the pursuing and the seeking co-exist with the still and the quiet?
Can His coming be met with both the inner life and the outer fulfillment?
Can I live so shockingly counter-cultural that a bright stream of clarity guides?
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I know so little of Advent. It is a newer practice for me and I am a sojourning woman in great need of this stable heartbeat of Grace.
The drum, drum, drum of the Little Drummer boy his story told in Veggie Tale style as I snuggle wet-head toddlers in footie sleepers points me to His coming.
The lights on houses all 
simple and white beam soft reminders within.
The wrapping paper tree in our makeshift home of transition with its felt Jesse Tree Ornaments and string of lights put up with duct tape that keep falling down and a four year-old who starts to see a little and a two year-old who draws flowers as we read…it all focuses us in its imperfect yet true.
And the living, the living, the living. The learning together to say ‘yes’ to Him though the way be rough and long and I want to cry inside for all that I long to see but is yet to come and the knowing, oh, the knowing that this is the way to Advent.
His coming in the obscure and improbable and absurd. His coming in all that defies the conventional. His coming in the weak and helpless. His coming in the dark with a singular light to guide. His coming is my longing and this Advent clarifies the pearl, the kingdom, the quiet for it finds us in the living as though His coming is everything.
