Mary's Fiat and Mine

I have not been completely predisposed to losing some sense of what Advent means. In fact, I have actually allowed myself to embrace every chance I get to capture, be awakened, and be sensible about things of Advent. A very good friend of mine thinks I have been pensive, though I would have preferred the word contemplative to her term that means more of "being in a state of dreamy or sad state." I am not in a dreamy or sad state. I may look sad, and though to some extent, I have been experiencing some form of dying, deep inside, there is perfect peace and joy.

I love Lent and Advent! They are for me a mini-retreat, a time of revelation, and a time of discoveries. It is a time of full embrace of what cannot be seen or fathomed, for only the aid of something divine can  be made manifest at a time when you think you almost got it. You think you're there, but you're not. You wonder and think you've reached a point of destination, but in fact, it's only a beginning. You sigh with a relief, but only to realize it's transitory and a pause is what it takes to move swiftly to the next step.

It's all so beautiful. If life is all an end, then beginnings are not worth trying for -- at all. I might as well just curl up in bed. But no! I won't have it that way. Life is too precious to be a huge pause, unless it means I need a big break for the next huge step God has determined for me to take. I will take my chances, and, like Mary, I may be overwhelmed or frightened at first, but if I say "Yes" to God's every call, I know, I know he will make my fiat as beautiful a reality as I sure can give it my best.

He calls. I must go.

See you on Christmas.

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