Sunday, February 19, 2012

Happy (Belated) Advent!

Hello Everyone,

Wow! You have probably noticed that I have taken a long (and unannounced) hiatus from these letters. My apologies! As usual, I have had a lot going on, but the last two months or so have involved a lot of writing, so I have needed to turn from writing, rather than to it, for a break. Just to catch you up, here are some of the things that I’ve been working on since Christmas or so: I am taking another online class at Hollins, this one on Tomboys in children’s literature. For a while, I was also working on revising a paper I began last summer so I could submit it for a conference this summer. I have started teaching art classes at my house twice a week, which has been great fun, and I’m really excited to work with the dozen or so kids who attend. I have also been substitute teaching at Saint George’s, my K-12 school, and through that, have been connected with some tutoring opportunities. In addition to helping some folks with writing, I am meeting with Austrian triplets twice a week to help them with their math. They are fantastic, bright girls who have a great sense of humor and have a curious obsession with drawing “wonderful wampires,” as they pronounce it. Then, when I have a bit of time, I’m also applying for more long-term teaching jobs for after my summer term at Hollins. So I’ve certainly been keeping busy, but I’m grateful to have settled into something of a routine in the last few weeks. And that more or less catches us up to speed. Now on to other matters:

If you’ve been reading these letters for a while now, you’ll know that I’ve written about Advent several times over the last few years. Advent is the four weeks in the church calendar leading up to Christmas, when Christians celebrate the coming of Jesus. This is my favorite time of the year because it’s all about waiting, and I love waiting. I’m sure at this point, many of you are saying, “Sarah Jackson, this proves you are certifiable.” But it’s true. I love how when I’m waiting for something, it forces me to slow down and concentrate on whatever it is I’m waiting for, which helps me appreciate it all the more. I doubt the bread sticks at Bennidito’s would taste as good if we didn’t have to wait for them to be made. I imagine the Harry Potter series would not have been as successful if the seven books and eight movies had come out all at once. I don’t think mailing a package would be as exciting if I didn’t have to stand in line at the post office. Okay, bad example. Going to the post office is ALWAYS exciting.

But the point is that Advent is a time of anticipation. It means “arrival,” and a quick perusal of a thesaurus (because perhaps the only thing as thrilling as standing in line at the post office is perusing a thesaurus) reveals words colored by excitement and expectancy: appearance, emergence, materialization, occurrence, dawn, birth, rise, development, approach, coming. This is not a dull time of the year. This is the seasonal equivalent of the drive to the airport to welcome a dear friend who you haven’t seen in years. This is a big deal. To some folks, this is the Big Deal.

So why on earth am I bringing up Advent now, almost two months after it finished, and as we are about to enter into Lent, an equally significant time of the year for Christians? Well, to be honest, mostly because though I started this letter before Christmas, I have had time to finish it only now. But in many ways, I feel like I am still in an Advent mindset. Like many recent graduates, I am in a limbo stage of life, in a constant state of waiting and preparation. Much of what I do on a daily basis is to get ready in some way for the future. (“This would be a good opportunity to put on my resumé,” “Perhaps one of these applications will pan out and I might have a -- gasp! -- ‘real’ job!” etc.) And yet, in Advent, we know what we’re waiting for, while now I feel clueless most of the time. For the first time, I’m beginning to understand what it felt like to be an Israelite waiting for her Messiah. They didn’t know exactly what he would be like, or exactly what he would do. They didn’t even know when exactly he would come. I feel similarly oblivious. I am confident that something will happen. I am confident that it will be good. But I can’t possibly know what it will look like. Most of the people who have been asking me bigger deal, life-y questions recently have been receiving uncharacteristically short responses: “I’m not sure;” “Maybe;” “I have literally no idea.” My prayers, which normally resemble my voicemails in their rambling nature, have become incredibly concise: “Dear God, I don’t know. Amen.”

So in the middle of this I Don’t Know Time, I am trying to take lessons from Advent. It has been humbling to have to admit that the phrase “be present,” which I find sickeningly cliché, is probably the best advice I’ve been given in this stage of life. It is easy to disregard these kind of in-between times, thinking they are merely preludes to the real show. But to ignore them would be like drawing a map of a river without including any of the bridges that span the banks. During Advent, Christians often light candles on a wreath each week to represent different gifts that Christ brings: hope, peace, joy, and love. However, these are not simply rewards that we get once we have patiently made it through Advent. They are also tools that help with the waiting. So how do I “be present” while still anticipating something greater in the future? Cultivate hope, carve out space in my schedule to let in peace, pursue activities and people that give me joy, and always, always prioritize love. These seem like platitudes, like they could be printed in fancy mauve script on those birthday cards you never manage to read through in their entirety, or etched into smooth river stones tastefully scattered next to outdoor fountains in suburban gardens. But my trusty OED reminds me that “platitude” comes from the French word for “flat.” And hope, peace, joy, and love are anything but flat -- on the contrary, they give life dimension.

Of course, all of that is much easier said than done. And so now that I’ve said it, I’m trying to figure out how to do it. Suggestions, as always, are welcome!

Have a great week!

Sarah/Mouse