For the month of December – in honor of Dressember – I’ll be blogging everyday! Thoughts on anything from fighting for justice to feminism, from dresses I’m wearing to books I’m reading, and everything in between.
In this season of advent, we focus a lot on waiting. What are we expecting, what are we looking forward to, what are we personally waiting on? As Christmas is tomorrow (!!!), it feels like the waiting is finally over.
As I’ve been reflecting on this season of advent in my own life, I’ve realized what I’m waiting for. Healing, in various areas of my life. Boldness, in certain relationships. Answers, to questions I’ve been asking. And as I’ve been re-watching the original Star Wars trilogy, I’ve realized something else: I am Luke Skywalker.
As I’ve pre-decided what my healing is to look like or what steps the process should take, I’m impatiently waiting for these changes to happen. I’m too focused on what I think should be taking place or looking for signs that I’ve decided should be appearing. I’m Luke, sitting impatiently in front of this strange little green man, telling him, “I need Yoda. How far away is Yoda? I’m supposed to find Yoda. When will we get to Yoda??” And when he, in his gravely voice, tells me, “Help you I can,” I write it off for what it sounds like – gibberish. Nonsense. Eye roll. Here I was searching for help and I get stuck with a crazy, ugh.
I was watching this scene of Luke and Yoda in the swamp, having a life epiphany. What have I written off, because I was looking for something else? Where in life have I been tunnel visioned on the finish line, and not realized help was right in front of me? When have I been ignoring people’s offers of help, because they aren’t asking in the way I was expecting?
And then, blame it on the time of year, I thought back to the very first Christmas (or, you know, what we socially refer to as “the first Christmas”). The Jews were waiting for a warlord to fall from the heavens – what they got was a baby in a feeding trough. I can just imagine rabbis teaching of the coming messiah on the steps of the temple, with a young Jesus of Nazareth sitting there thinking, “Help you, I can…“. He wasn’t what they expected, He wasn’t who they believed they were looking for. Yet He was so much more.
It’s finally, finally Christmas (tomorrow), and we get to celebrate the end of long period of waiting: the waiting for our Messiah, the waiting for fulfilled promises, the waiting for a Hope to fill a people and a world who had only known darkness for too long. It’s a wonderful thing to remember, a wonderful display of faithfulness to celebrate. But sometimes it’s hard to celebrate the end of advent when it feels like the advent in our lives continues – still looking, still asking, still waiting. This year, I’m trying to be more aware of the Yodas that have been placed in front of me (possibly the weirdest, nerdiest sentence I will ever write…). I’m trying to be more open to looking around me and – instead of impatiently assuming I’m in the wrong place – wondering if maybe I was supposed to land in this swamp. Maybe this gibberish I’m hearing has a purpose, maybe one day it will all make sense to me. Maybe, just maybe, the promises I’ve been waiting on and the answers I’ve been asking for are coming – even if it’s in the form of a baby.