Had a faith piece in The Age this weekend. This caused me to go back to my scrap books since 1999 when I was first published there and count how many articles I've had in the paper. I was excited because I thought it might be 99, but each time I counted, I got a different answer. (I can write but I cannot count to save my life). So I got my daughter to count them with me, and hey, the total is 103. Yee ha!
So here's the latest:
In the church’s calendar, the four week period leading up to Christmas is called Advent; traditionally a time of preparation and waiting.
We all know it’s difficult to wait. It’s probably harder now than it’s ever been, thanks to affluence and technology. So many of us have the kind of money that if we want a CD, we go out and buy it. Ditto a new pair of boots. All the knowledge we could ever want is literally at the tips of our fingers, which can unearth any information in the world simply by touching a few buttons.
I appreciate google as much as the next middle-aged person, but in this climate we need to be reminded that there are many things that cannot be hurried, no matter how hard we work, how rich we are, or what sophisticated gadgets we carry around in our pockets.
I have understood this better in middle age, because I have had time to see evidence of it inside and around me. The best things take time. A slow-cooked stew. A hand-knitted jumper. Home grown vegies. A novel that has taken a dozen years to write.
The growing of a new human being that will not, even in the 21st century, take less than forty weeks. What comes after: the year in, year out parenting of a child and teenager until, despite your bumbling efforts, they become young adults you love to be with.
I am so glad I have been married for more than 30 years because despite the continuing rough edges, in the last decade my husband and I have experienced a deep acceptance of each other that helps us grow into what we are meant to be. This only comes with time.
I will be a work in progress till the day I die, but in my fifties I am less easily threatened, competitive and judgmental. I take myself less seriously. I notice beautiful, everyday things that I missed before because I was in too much of a hurry.
But getting to this point has taken, well, 50 years. It has taken a lifetime of corporate worship and private prayer, painful inner work, the raising of children, the give and take of marriage, the tussles between friends, the turning up to work, day after day.
A colleague of mine taught me a profound prayer by Teilhard de Chardin that can be said in rhythm with the breath. ‘Trust in’ (said on the in breath), ‘the slow work of God’ (said on the out). The work of God is slow and steady, and usually imperceptible except over a very long time. As we wait for the birth of the Christ child at Christmas, Advent reminds us of this.