As the trees become bare.

The trees are bare…or so it seems. 
The sun goes down a little earlier each evening…or so it seems. 
The chill of the morning turns to cold of the day… or so it seems. 

The season of Advent is on us. This season is meant for one thing. Waiting.
Waiting for the greatest gift one could ever have the chance to wait for. So we must wait. 

I think just as the trees must go bare in this season, so must we. We must come bare to expose to ourselves (and to those close enough to us to see) that there are hidden tucked away inner longings that are to often hidden in the covering of the colored leaves. 
We get to hide these desires and dreams away during most seasons. Covering them with other activities, other jobs, other joys, even excuses as to why its ok that these things still remain dreams. 
But there must come a time that we see them again. See them again bare.  
Because after all the leaves fall just tree remains. For those of us who stop to look, to take in the bareness, we see. 
We see what might look like longing, what might look like uncomfortable, what might look like naked. 
But there it is alone a limb, exposed for all the eyes that walk the path to see. 

I believe that we too look like longing, like uncomfortable, like naked, when we become bare. And although most can cover back up much quicker then trees grow back leaves, we all feel the season that is to become bare. 

I learned from the trees that we must become leaf free to remind us of the strength in our dreams, in our longings, in our desires. As the thick branch remains through each mornings frost, so do our deepest passions.

Each year we must see them bare, with out the spring bud of "this is how I'm going to get there." or the Autumn orange of "Its ok, I understand why I'm here and not there." But being that bare hurts us! So instead of resting in the bareness of winter among the trees that are empty of the things that we believe make them beautiful. We go to our nearest tree lot buy the biggest tree and dress it up. Maybe because its tradition but maybe because we can not stand for another second to be faced with the twinge and awkwardness that comes with being bare to so many, for so long. So we hide. 

I am finding that no matter what city I live in, which group of friends I am around at the time, their always comes the internal clock that reminds me (sometimes painfully) that it is time once again to shed the leaves and become exposed. For me it is necessary because it reminds me that this is not just a season of bare limbs, and bone chills that reveal our deepest loves, but it is a season of waiting. 


And again we are not just waiting to wait! We are waiting on a promise. A promise that brings with it love, and redemption, and grace, and peace and hope! We are waiting on the promise of Jesus coming to earth to walk among us, to make a way for connection to God once more.
And in following the tradition of so many who came before me I wait. And I learn that this waiting is not just a reminder of the promise of Jesus but also the reminder of the other promises God has given me. 
Promises.
Promises of Africa.
Promises of loving and being loved. 
Promises of being his Beloved.
Promises of motherhood (one day, a long way down the road)
Promises of Him not forgetting His children. 
Promises of This too shall pass.
Promises. 

Just as the rainbow reminds us of these promises in the heat of summer. So does the bareness of limbs in the winter. 

Lord, 
Give us hope in waiting and joy in the reminder of your faithfulness. Your promises are true. Let us stand sturdy through the chill of winter, laying on exposed longings, dreams, and desires at your feet. 
Amen