Advent . Week 2 . Tuesday

I am loathe to grapple with death in this season of hope and pregnant expectation and wondrous beginning. But the wind cuts to the core and the sadness creeps in unexpectedly, and I am forced to pay attention to the barrenness and the shortness of each day’s breath. Help me with this, O God. The death must be witnessed, the pain acknowledged, the loss felt — not out of holiday charity, but with self-vulnerability and genuine dis-ease. Death, too, has an advent, a time for preparation: candles are lit and hours marked and early sunsets mourned. O Holy Light of Advent, be present in this advent too. Fill me with the peace to be unguarded; grant me the strength to be weak. Don’t let me skip winter’s bitterness in my longing for the warmth and light of Christmas.