In advent something changes. The agony and waiting and pain and silent emptiness in my interior life are suddenly embraced in advent by the whole church
The lonely waiting becomes the hopeful expectation of the arrival of the Son
Unending heat and cold and pain and desire resonate not only in my heart but in the whole world.
Come, Lord Jesus!
I join my silent prayer to that of the Church, that of Mary.
And as the child grows in her womb I understand the tender silence that cannot be rushed into birth, and my heart grows calm and patient, trusting that he will come. He has not left me forever.

And the world speaks of him to me in new ways.
The breeze is the voice of the Spirit, the dying leaf that lands on my heart the sign of new life to come
The sunset a kiss from him


the scorching heat of the desert
dims
and a gentle breeze blows fresh hope in the falling leaves
A hope reborn of death, of resurrection, of birth
of simplicity
of silence
of love
 the hopeful expectation of
Advent
Longing for the promised land becomes longing for the promised one
Desire for his gaze becomes desire for his birth
The mother's hand that has been gently holding mine as we walk, places my hand, still in hers,
on her womb.