Speak to Me Sunday: And So We Wait ... Actively

 There is a YouTube video of Fr. Manno giving a lesson on what we should be doing during Advent. His answer? We wait. But then he explained the difference between active vs. inactive waiting, and how during Advent we should be actively waiting; that is, as we wait for the Christ Child we are not meant to sit around doing nothing. Instead, we prepare. 

His commentary reminded me of the motto verso l'alto (towards the height), words often associated with the life of Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati. While on one level the words refer to our earthly struggle as we climb toward the summit of eternal life, on a very practical level the words are also a rallying cry for what we do while climbing. 

For we should always be doing something, just like that waiting time before a trip. That period of preparation for a future action, a period of activity in waiting for the moment we can finally take that step and go forth ... 

The suitcases were packed and standing in a line by the back door; I was in that in-between place of being ready, but not yet going.

I have often said that preparing for a trip is almost as fun as the trip itself. In the months leading up to that pile of luggage by the back door I applied for a brand new passport, purchased some new clothes, and managed to pack everything I needed. For months I gathered maps, read guide books, conducted Google searches, made reservations, and planned daily itineraries; in short, I did everything I could to help guide me into the unknown, and it was terribly exciting to imagine the possibilities and anticipate the adventure.

But it was also all kinds of scary because despite the preparation, there are no guarantees. 

Then something happened the morning of our departure as I stood between two worlds – the one I was leaving (familiar and safe) and the one I was headed toward (full of the unknown). As I reached into my purse to check (yet again) if I had my passport, I remembered the Dutch proverb that goes like this: He is who outside his door, already has the hard part of his journey behind him. It's a proverb about taking that first step which, without a doubt, is the hardest step of all.

So that’s exactly what I did – I picked up my suitcase and took that first step out the door, and for the first time in months I was completely and wholly at peace. I was on my way, come what may.

During this Advent as we embark on a journey connecting memory and hope, I am reminded how any journey – spiritual, physical, redemptive, etc. – begins with that first step, one for which you have prepared and hoped for. It may be the biggest step you may ever have to take, seemingly impossible and impossibly difficult. It may be a hesitant step, or a bold one. 

It may require a leap of faith. 

But in the end all that preparation begins with a single step.

And with that one step, you're on your way.

My friend, Karla, designs these unique etchings on slate taken from 

the roof of her family's 100 year old dairy barn in rural northeast Ohio.