I've always been quick. Whether it's work, playing games, reading - I tend to rush through and complete the current task as hastily as possible.
My son, on the other hand? He takes his time. Whether running or reading, doing homework or taking a shower, he finds a way to make time fly by. Sometimes it's distractions or misunderstandings; others it's just the care he puts into all that he touches - considering, weighing, wondering, pausing.
I have to admit that he really tries my patience, especially when he is working on tasks I consider less important. They occupy so much time and - at least in my eyes - that keeps him from so much else. So I find myself stressing and pressing him to finish the current thing to move on to the next.
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The past couple months of work have been terribly busy, and between that and various ministries I have found myself involved in, my tagline since August has been I'm doing too much. Lord knows I'm not the only one finding myself in that position, as it seems a bit as if 2021 will be the year we all remember for being overworked.
But recently I've been coming to the realization that no matter how much I do ... there will always be something more. In this life with its constant demands and finite resources - the question what's next? will always loom. And it's making me wonder, why the necessity to be constantly sprinting, ever-on-the-move? Who or what am I enslaved to that causes me to lose peace if my team is unable to meet a deadline?
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This year has been full of grieving and suffering for me (for most of us, I should say), and while I have found peace and growth in prayer through it, I also have to admit that recently I've been getting impatient with myself to just hurry up and heal already. I'm hopeful and eager to move on from the past, but it seems as if my heart still isn't there - and I'm honestly tired of being in that space.
Which reminds me that here is yet another instance of my seeming need to move to the next thing.
It's so difficult to remain still when you are anxious about the future. As if there is no grace being offered in the present moment.
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I love Advent because of the invitation to sit in the painful waiting of a yet-to-be-redeemed Israel. To be reminded of the longing and the darkness of a world that had received the promise of a Savior in Emmanuel, but could only cry out how long? as the centuries passed.
Advent reminds me just how precious the Incarnation truly was, as I place myself in the position of a people who did not yet have the Church; the Sacraments; Mary. It tells me that what I have received is such a gift, one that I never want to take for granted (but one that I know I do at times).
Advent also reminds me of the waiting I still have - the already-not-yet-ness of my own salvation; the lifetime of work I still have ahead of me; my continual need to grow in virtue and childlike dependence on Our Lord (goodness do I have a long way to go).
Because the reality is that what's next? is a question born from a lack of trust. The part of me that impatiently insists on moving past the current task doesn't trust God's timing. Doesn't believe that my current circumstances are precisely where I am meant to be. Doesn't see the immediate task at hand as being just as integral to my salvation as any other.
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I wonder: perhaps I need to slow down and find ways to encounter God in my daily work? It's one thing to have that encounter in my prayer life, but another altogether to see Him working in the mundane; in the seemingly meaningless; in the painful stillness.
The God who shows up and works wonders is the same One who insists that we wait. Sometimes it seems that He operates all the more in the latter - when we can't see what He is doing and just have to trust in the waiting. Perhaps that's part of the point: to come to realize that we aren't in control and He works in all circumstances, not just the sublime.
So this Advent, I will be taking a page from my son's book and adopting the discipline of slowing down. Asking for the grace to remember that God is always at work. Coming before Him to know Him in the stillness of prayer. Trying to remember that He is God and I am not, and doesn't need all my work to accomplish His purposes.
Lord, grant me peace in the present, for it is here that I encounter You.
