I didn't want to go to church yesterday. I was tired from a busy weekend, and I just wanted to relax. Maybe you've felt that way at times. Your "To Do" list is longer than a CVS receipt. Your baby woke you up multiple times in the night. You're not feeling 100 percent. Most of your clothes are in the dirty laundry basket, and the rest are wrinkled.

And yet. I felt the Still Small Voice telling me to go. And I knew from previous experience to listen and obey.

It was the first Sunday of Advent, the day when we light the candle of Hope.

Sometimes hope is hard-fought for, especially if you've experienced profound disappointment. It's hard to  hope again, isn't it? We look forward to a day of healing and wholeness, when Love incarnate will reign. But during the in-between time, we grasp at hope, watch it slip through our fingers, and try desperately to hold on.

I've experienced deep, bottomless disappointment. Grief over dreams not realized. Maybe you have, too. Hoping again means making yourself vulnerable, letting down your guard, knocking down the wall that surrounds and protects your heart. There's a chance your hope won't be realized this side of heaven. That's the reality.

But in that church service yesterday, when the first candle of Advent was lit, I felt the seeds of hope within my weary heart. 

Hope shines brightest in the darkest night of the soul.

An infant in the row behind me was squealing in distress until she found comfort at her mother's breast.  I imagine she sucked greedily, without fear, filling her empty stomach and calming her cries.

Hope.

When the pastor prayed his "pastoral prayer,"  he prayed for a physician in the church who specializes in mental health care, and he prayed for all of us who suffer from mental illness. No stigma, no condemnation, just love and comfort.

Hope.

Our Bible reading was from Matthew Chapter 1, the genealogy of Jesus. Listed among the line of Jesus are cheaters, liars, murderers, prostitutes, the poor, the destitute, the long-forgotten. "The Bible is honest enough to show us the failures of Christ's genealogy," the pastor said.

And there are women. Women weren't normally listed in genealogies. They weren't highly regarded.

But in the family of God, nobody is excluded. 

That gives me hope.

At the end of the service, my friends Heather and Rick were serving communion. When Heather gave me the bread, she said, "Luann, this is Christ's body, sacrificed for you."  I've taken communion hundreds of times, but something about hearing her say my name was startling and refreshing. And I believed what she said.

Hope.

I returned to my seat, and just as I had taken the bread, my 8-year-old slid into the seat next to me. He had been downstairs at children's church, but he told the teacher he wanted to leave early so he could take communion. Disappointed clouded his face when he realized we'd already gone forward to receive the bread and cup...but I had my cup, still full. I looked into his sweet face and let him drink from my cup. He drank greedily, shaking the little cup until he got every last drop. 

Hope.

Today my dear friend starts treatment for liver cancer. I have been fearful of cancer for as long as I can remember. But when I talk to this friend, I see and hear in his voice the graciousness of God. He was scared at first--terrified, but God has ministered to his heart in a way that I can't describe. He speaks of the goodness of God, the presence of God, the comfort of God, and I have hope. For him, as he fights this terrible disease, and for me, as I lay my fears at the altar.

Hope shines brightest in the darkest of nights. Our hope is Emmanuel--God with us. He shall disperse the gloomy clouds of night, and death's dark shadows put to flight. He will come to us and cheer our spirits, comfort our fears, and give us hope in His unfailing love and goodness.

Rejoice. Hope has come.

...and there won't be snow in Africa this Christmas time...

This video was shot just 80 miles south of where our Ethiopian children live, 31 years ago. Their parents and grandparents survived this devastation. The U.N. has warned that the current drought in the Tigray Region--where our children live--could become comparable to this Famine of 1984. #BearingWitness #NeverAgain

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I never imagined that another Christmas would be upon us and half of our family would still be across the ocean. The three stockings I bought last year for two young girls and an almost-teenage boy are still in storage. And little ornaments I made for them last December were hung on the tree two weeks ago with sadness in my heart.

Yesterday I opened the dresser drawers in the girls' room, and I found neatly folded shirts and socks and underwear--still in the package. A little jewelry bag that I had forgotten about caught my eye--gold necklaces with the initial of their first names. Christmas dresses and lacy sweaters hang in the closet, and D's brand new bike--the one he's been dreaming of--still sits in the garage, tags dangling from the handlebars.

Ready for school

And I wonder. I wonder if the clothes will still fit them. I wonder if D has learned to ride a bike. I wonder if they will have gifts this Christmas. I wonder if they have food to eat, medicine when they're sick, warm beds on cold nights, and hugs and kisses when they are sad.

We got our bi-monthly update on them today, only 2 months overdue, and I couldn't find a single picture where our now-10-year old girl is smiling. She's the more reserved, quiet one of the bunch, but still, it made me sad.

The report says the children frequently ask about us--when are we coming for them and why we aren't there aleady. D tells the orphanage manager that he's trusting God that someday, someday, he will meet us in person. And the orphanage manager confessed to the social worker that he often ignores or avoids their questions--because he doesn't know how to answer them.

And yet, there's still a glimmer of hope. Hope that the drought in the Tigray Region will force the hand of the regional officials who maintain they can take care of their own; that they don't need foreigners adopting their children.

So despite the irony, we continue to pray for rain. Rain to quench their dried-up land. Rain to nourish their fields and provide food for their people. Rain to melt the hearts of stone.

After all, isn't Advent a season of Hope? Hope in miracles. Hope in goodness. Hope in humanity.

And most of all, hope that the boy Mary delivered ... will soon deliver our boy and his sweet little sisters.

Advent Calender

As a kid, one of my favorite parts of the holiday season was receiving our annual Advent Calender from our Sunday School teacher. It was a paper/cardboard construction, about 8"x12". It was usually a nativity scene, and it had 25 little windows that opened, each revealing an even better picture.

Today, most of the Advent Calenders sold have become "Countdown to Christmas" calendars. And while I love Santa as much as the next person, I also want my son to understand and embrace the true meaning of Christmas. I also don't want him eating chocolate every day. (They come with chocolate now! Who knew?)

[As a side note, I was so disappointed when I realized Micheal's Craft store as well as our local Target  don't have a darn thing in their Christmas section that has to do with Jesus. Nothing. Nada. Zero. Seriously. Look the next time you're there. As I said, I'm not against secular traditions--my child will sit on Santa's lap and probably leave him some cookies, but it feels like Jesus is being shut out of his own birthday celebration. OK, will now descend from soapbox.]

So, being a newly minted Pinterest person, I turned to my new source (addiction?) for all things creative. I took several ideas and combined them to come up with a rustic/chic/sacred Advent Calender.

Here's how I made it.

First, I bought wide burlap ribbon rolls in three designs. At Michael's. I know, I know. I should probably shop elsewhere since they apparently don't like Jesus, but let's be honest: Me not shopping there only punishes me. And I will use their secular decorations for faith-driven purposes. Sneaky on my part, right?

So, I cut the ribbon in strips about 12 inches long. I folded them over, lining up the "flap" so the snowflake pattern would retain the snowflake shape, and pinned them in place.

I stitched up the sides to create a pocket, and also stitched up any unfinished edges as burlap tends to easily unravel. I used a zig-zag stitch to secure the jute fibers.

Then I added some embellishments. I like the combo of the rustic burlap combined with lacey lace and glittery buttons. Note: The buttons are decorative only. While I did sew them on to secure them, I didn't make a button hole. Please people. I've only been sewing for about a month, and the one time I tried to do a buttonhole....well, let's just say total disaster. Thread bunched up, needle broke, fabric seriously messed up. Anyway...

Next I added green ribbon tabs on which I had written numbers, 1-25. I sewed them on the back. Maybe I did this before sewing the sides. I can't remember. This has been a long project.

Finally, I strung the daily pockets on a long piece of white lace and strung them on our stair railing. I bought this lace at Hobby Lobby. They, apparently, love Jesus. But not birth control for the masses. But let's not get political. This is supposed to be a feel-good blog.

Now comes the most important part. I filled each pocket with a printed out Bible verse. I used this list that I stole off Pinterest. I'd give credit, but the link didn't go anywhere. Note: Some of the passages are really long. I used them anyway. Jack has a hard time sitting through the reading, but someday they will be more meaningful to him. (Yes, I'm planning on using this for a lot of years. This was way too much work for one year's use!)

Note, if you want to see the actual verses printed out, I have a Word doc I can email to you so you don't have to look up each one, copy, paste, etc. They are in the New Living Translation.

Then, the exciting part! Each pocket also has a thimble sized piece to a Nativity set. I bought set of 16 at Hobby Lobby, and supplemented the other 9 days with various trees, animals, etc. I found a small creche at Walmart that was the perfect size, but it already had a Mary and Joseph and Jesus in it. Glued in it. But for $6, I was more than willing to have my husband wrestle them out of their comfy creche.

We totally could've made the creche with some spare wood, but it was November 30, and we couldn't start the process without the stable...and finding the wood, the nails, the materials...wasn't going to happen.

So, each day before bed we open a pocket, read the verse, and little Jack-Jack gets to add a piece to his Nativity set. So far he has a sheep and a cow. We'll save Jesus for the 25th of course, but Mary and Joe will arrive a few days earlier.

Since my two-year-old has inherited my strong sense of nosiness, I mean curiosity, I put the actual figurine in the pocket right before we open it. :)

Happy Advent!

Luann

PS: Here is one of my favorite Advent hymns, written by Charles Wesley in the 1700s. It's still so relevant today.

1. Come, thou long expected Jesus, 
 born to set thy people free; 
 from our fears and sins release us, 
 let us find our rest in thee.  
 Israel's strength and consolation, 
 hope of all the earth thou art; 
 dear desire of every nation, 
 joy of every longing heart.

2. Born thy people to deliver, 
 born a child and yet a King, 
 born to reign in us forever, 
 now thy gracious kingdom bring. 
 By thine own eternal spirit 
 rule in all our hearts alone; 
 by thine all sufficient merit, 
 raise us to thy glorious throne.