As we go through the Advent season, I am reminded once more of the anticipation the Old Testament Prophets must have felt awaiting the Lord's arrival. It's something I didn't really think about until a few years ago. For thousands of years--since Moses had tried to wrangle a bunch of grumbling Israelites--the Jewish race had been waiting for the Messiah, for deliverance, for freedom from the crushing weight of self-atonement. I can only imagine the excitement that must have coursed through the veins of the shepherds who were visited by the angels, the wise men who saw the North Star, Mary who "pondered all [such] things in her heart" when she heard the Good News: that Hope had finally arrived. They had only the promise of a Messiah: we have proof. We have a risen Lord who changed the course of history.
Christmas Eve has always been hands-down my favorite day of the year. I love Christmas Eve service, where all you see is candlelight, filled with voices singing "Silent Night". I love the mood right when everyone finishes off their hot chocolate, turns out the fire, and heads to bed, ready for the magic to begin. I love the feeling of anticipation that, unlike the anxiety that plagues us all year, is certain of good things to come in the morning.
Like many Americans, though I spend much of the holiday season up to Christmas Eve making lists and checking them off; sending and receiving cards; baking cookies and then, despite my better judgment, eating them. This year, though, the season of anticipation has been more tangible for our family. We have been waiting to find out if our little one will get to be ours. And, when I say waiting, I mean checking the email every 10 minutes for the adoption decree (that's me, of course, not Philip); talking about it daily; becoming anxious that something may have gone wrong; and occasionally getting up the nerve to ask our coordinators, "Any news?"
Well, this morning, I opened my email nonchalantly, knowing it would not come on a Sunday. But around 9:30 AM, there it was, completely unexpected. The copy of our adoption decree--the investigation found that JP is an orphan and a court in the DRC has agreed that we are fit parents for him. To see our name listed on a legal document with his was surreal. Now, we definitely have a few more hurdles to climb, but when I opened the email, it was the most excited I have been through this whole ordeal. I cried out of joy, I squealed, the kids and I turned on some music and had a dance party. Really, this is the point where a realistic timeline finally begins. And more than anything, I could breath a bit of relief--things are moving in the right direction.
So, I got to feel the anticipation of a different kind of advent this Christmas, but one that pointed me back to the excitement we should all feel for the coming King. And, in light of the last month of tragedy in the DRC and here at home, I pray that we yearn for the Second Advent even more. For that day when all pain will cease, when we will rest in the arms of our Father, and will finally be home. The fulfillment of that which was begun in Bethlehem 2,000 years ago.
