There is a deep longing within all people. We are born with it.
Like a distant memory of something precious that has been lost. The longing whispers in the ear like a long forgotten lullaby. Like a child in it's mother's arms the song consoles us even when we are to small to understand the words she sings.
This longing manifests itself as an ache within the heart, a swell of tears behind the eyes, and as a lethargy through the body.
All are traces of a memory. The memory of playing in a beautiful garden as a child. Carefree and joyful.
And the memory is real. It is the memory of our original place in God's kingdom, the place we left through sin and the place we long to return to.
We are all homesick little children in search of our Father. Only wishing for his arms to embrace us once again.
And that longing deep inside is his calling to us, his voice in the core of our souls. And the tears that flow from our eyes weep at the reflection of ourselves in the ocean of his love. We long to become as droplets dissolved into the ebb and flow of that distant blue shore. Our eyes stinging in the tierd awakening of the dawn light.
Advent brings this longing and expectancy we hold within us and bears it into the world with the birth of Jesus.
Mary, his mother , and ours, represents the child of the garden, free from sin and stain, Joyful in her abandonment to God's grace.
Jesus, the child of God is the flower that emerges from the dark soil of the earth and reminds us of a new Springtime.
His birth was a birth that gives life to all.
And that deep longing within us is led back to the garden once more by the little Christ Child.
I thought it was about time I introduced my long suffering husband.
