Last weekend we went downtown with the kids to see Christmas decorations and walk down King Street for an event called Second Sunday. They close the street and local vendors put up tents and the whole thing is so lovely. I, however, had a vision for how I wanted it to go. I wanted to stroll leisurely and stop off and look at things and enjoy. But, you see, I had my family with me. Four precious humans who were either 1) tired of walking 2) wanted me to buy them everything in sight 3) had remorse about the sweet treat they chose and wanted to trade with a sibling who was unwilling to trade 4) simply didn’t want to be there. 

On more than one occasion I wanted to yell like Uncle Frank in Home Alone, “Look what you did, you little jerk!”

You gotta love Christmas expectations. 

Every year I notice it: my desire for postcard worthy experiences. My life is so wonderful and full, yet I yearn for never-ending Christmas magic, for sparkle that never dims, for hot chocolate that never cools.

This year, a phrase has continued to pop into my head and I am leaning in: “Advent anticipation transforms my Christmas expectations.”

When I find myself in a situation I dreamed would be better, I am trying to remind myself that advent anticipation lives in the uncomfortable, in the “this isn’t what I thought it would be” place. Advent anticipation waits and longs for something greater. But not in a forlorn way, in an exciting way. 

Advent anticipation says “You’re right! This isn’t what it should be. The world is broken. But the great Fixer is coming. He’s what we’ve been waiting for, and He’s almost here.”