|My brother and sister-in-law's cat waiting|
for their return.
But there is the other kind of waiting, the yearning for something or someone to arrive. We went to California to see my youngest son, who I hadn't hugged since the middle of August, and to see family up the coast.
This sort of waiting challenges my relationship with time. I want to arrive, but once there I want time to move with the traffic on I-5 on the Wednesday night before Thanksgiving. I wait, only to wait again. For departures. And for the next arrival. (He's coming home in less than three weeks! I can hardly wait. Again.) This waiting is liturgy, a cycle that sharpens senses and soul, and slowly peels my fingers away from the things I cling too tightly to. A Little Office of Advent.