Readings:
Jer 33:14-16
Ps 25:4-5, 8-9, 10, 14
Ps 85:8
Lk 21:25-28, 34-36

I have been praying with the image of Advent for some weeks now.  I spent a weekend recently on a silent retreat that focused on the seasons and this image of preparation and walking amid fields planting tulip bulbs before winter comes in full force was central in my mind. But the question remained – what am I preparing for? What am I waiting for? What is it that I am to remain vigilant for? I hear this call for vigilance and preparation at the beginning of Advent every December, but it feels noticeably louder this year.

It is difficult to remain vigilant and pay attention to what is happening around you when the world and life itself can seem so loud and busy. While Jesus specifically reminds us not to let our hearts become drowsy, sifting through the loudness is a constant challenge. As I look at the noise around me, I am less likely to be distracted by the drunkenness and carousing that John the Baptist mentions. I am, however, quite likely to be distracted by my daily anxieties, the ongoing-ness of my life and all that must be balanced. My daily anxieties seem to create their own litany that I cry aloud:

I wish the kids would get dressed faster in the morning.
I’m pretty sure they have winter clothes in the right size.
I hope they don’t grow out of their snow boots as soon as we get new ones.
Did I make that dentist appointment?
I forgot to text my friend back.
Why are horrible things happening in the world?
I think we wrote down the wrong time for ballet rehearsal.
Do I get enough time with the kids?
Now the other car needs repairs.
I forgot to put the wash into the dryer again.
We could really use a date night.
Maybe the kids will keep it together during Mass this week.

This litany of daily anxieties seems ever new and never ending and everyone’s personal litany looks a little different. This litany itself feels vigilant – always anticipating the next task on the list.  Not that these things aren’t important. I think my kids would like warm clothes and clean teeth and I like date nights and talking to my friends. But they are often anxieties and take up more space in my heart and mind than I would like to exist. They often sit in the center of my chest, where I can feel them at the peak of a deep breath. In any moment of prayer and sanity I am able to steal, I know that God is with me in that mess. But recognizing God amid all of it is a different kind of challenge.

Instead of preparing for the next thing that comes on the family calendar or the to-do list, can I shift that preparation? Can my vigilance look inwardly? Instead of my daily tasks taking up all the space within me, I can be on the lookout for where God may be stepping into the mess. I can look beyond the next tasks and look for the thoughts and worries within me that are not coming from the Holy Spirit. If I can’t make the space within me to look for the movements of God, how will I have the capacity to respond?

What could my litany of loving vigilance be? Can I be vigilant for where God is meeting me among the dirty laundry? Can my litany be one of ways to love those around me? Can my litany invite others to notice God’s coming as well?

Ellen Romer Niemiec, MDiv
(she/her/hers)
Director of Enrollment Management