While We Wait: Day 13
Each day during Advent, we will post some sort of reflection having to do with waiting, anticipation, hope. Each one will be different, each one a chance to pause and take a breath during this busy season. Past posts are archived here.
“O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Savior’s birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees…oh hear…”
The inside-my-head-voice says, “Don’t stop now, you’re almost through this part”, as my nose gets tickly and I’m doing the pre-ugly-cry-eye-blink-scrunch combo face.
Nope. Still not there. “Ok”, I tell myself, “just mouth the words, it’ll be fine.” And sometimes even that doesn’t work.
What is it about the “fall on your knees” part of that song that gets me EVERY. SINGLE. TIME? And I know it, so why am I caught off guard EVERY. SINGLE. TIME? How is it even a surprise anymore? I mean, it has the same “Hey, Jude” thing going for it, we’ve known the words since the womb. So the words aren’t new, and I know it’s coming around every year. And I still fall for it.
Could it be relief I’m seeking? The relief of falling on my knees, after laying long in sin and error (and the pining…let’s not forget the pining)? The grip on my heart when I think of His appearing, knowing that my soul could actually feel its worth, when so many days my soul isn’t sure what that word – “worth” – even means? The thrill of hope, when hope so often seems just past my reach? Or is it the thought of our weary world rejoicing? A tired, sometimes lonely, frequently empty and depleted world – but one that so desperately needs reminders that delight and joy exist. Maybe it’s the promise of that new and glorious morning, by my own admission so quickly and easily forgotten, often overshadowed by that worn-out world.
“Fall on your knees”
….my eyes are watering right now, but let’s finish this out.
“Oh hear the angels’ voices.
Oh night divine.
Oh night when Christ was born.”
I can’t help but picture us on our knees – relief washing over us, with the most vibrant of voices singing hope straight into the very beginning of ourselves. Raising our eyes enough to see the breaking of “new and glorious”. And holding close the reminder of the divine night – when hope, when Christ, was born.
I want to be caught off-guard when I think of how the reminder, the glimpse of hope should take my breath away. I hope I’m never able to sing that line without a catch in my voice.
This post is by Tanja Jameson, who tells people she works at Windstream as a cover for her real job as a woman of international intrigue. Married to Steve, mom to Bailey & Chipper, stepmom to Sara, Mark, and Geno. Sweet T to Jacob, Ethan, and Connor. Loves yoga. You can call her Millie but please don’t ever touch her head.
You can find Tanja on LinkedIn, Twitter and Instagram.