I’m part of a book group of people who used to/ still go to church. Some have walked away for better for worse, some are in leadership positions whilst holding subversive opinions and some are working it all out from the back pew.  Last night I asked how people were feeling about Advent. I spoke of how for me this is a time of waiting for something; expecting something; hoping for something… and trying to be patient about that which might be coming being different to my expectations of what I think and need. One person said that all they’d been thinking about in terms of December was whether they would meet their sales targets. One person said that the christmas story is a myth for them and thus it’s all about being with people and being present to people.  One said that the notion of advent is a type of crutch, a dependency for us to ‘transfer’ our neediness onto. Another said they hate waiting, but they like looking forward to things.  This engendered a passionate discussion about the difference between the two (hello, control issues!) and which was more virtuous. I don’t even know what Stringfellow might say… but the notion of waiting, hoping, believing, without a clear sense of what might that might look like, or even a secret, fleeting fingers crossed that it might be that which is good, is bringing me light and life as I settle into December.


About All Manner

I like to talk and think and listen and laugh and eat and run and watch and speak and read and bake and wonder and wander.
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