Most of us are back to work after the Thanksgiving weekend. The Christmas shopping season has officially kicked off and now we are clamoring to survive all the added stress placed on us by family obligations, financial expenses and social commitments brought on by the holiday season. At least that is what I hear from television commercials, talk show hosts and the woman behind me at the grocery store. I don't believe that this is how it should be, or must be. We have choices we can make about our lives, especially during this time of year. Pause for this moment and realize that, having celebrated Thanksgiving only a few days ago, we have come to the end of the church year with gratitude to God for everything in our lives. Hold onto that thought, that feeling of strength and peace that comes with remembering how fortunate we are in all that we have. Next we will shift our gaze to Advent, a time of expectation that prepares us for the coming of the Christ. That is what this week between Thanksgiving and Advent is about. Thanksgiving is about gratitude. Advent is about expectation.



Standing between gratitude and expectation can feel a bit precarious at times, like traveling over a very narrow road between two scenic canyons: all your concentration is focused on moving forward instead of stopping to appreciate both views and how they merge into one in the distance.

There seems to be some sort of explanation for understanding this time of year right in our own refrigerators. Thanksgiving leftovers are traditional, tangible abundance that everyone is willing to share. We make jokes about how many ways to use up the white meat, the dark meat, the stuffing, potatoes and cranberry sauce. But it is a playful teasing, a gentle game of creativity and invention with foods that warm our tummies and our souls, no matter how may times we render them into new forms. We work with what we have, willing to see past its inherent simplicity, and appreciate it for all it is worth, and then some. But sooner or later, the bones are picked clean, the soup is stored in freezer-safe containers and we must move on. We have an empty refrigerator in front of us, ready to stock with food for upcoming meals. But meals take planning, an investment of time and energy to figure out what might taste good in the days ahead.

How do you plan for meals? Do you look through recipe files, cookbooks or newspapers for new treats or old favorites? Do you make a grocery list of ingredients you know will work with past dishes and with your fertile imagination? Do you buy prepackaged meals because they are easier? Each of us has our own way of handling meal planning and preparation that works for us. Our understanding and application of expectation may parallel our meal making strategies. Some of us do research before attaching ourselves to any expectation. Some of us make lists to see the pros and cons of a future choice, hoping to avoid a mistake of major proportions. Some of us trust what we already know and lead with this inner knowledge. Some of us buy into other people's expectations because it is easier, although not always as satisfying. In the end, expectation is about looking forward, and Advent is the expectation of a renewal of faith in God's presence among us.

Endings demand new beginnings, and beginnings come with expectations, stated out loud or tucked away deep in our hearts. If it is true that when God closes a door God also opens a window, then it is never experienced more keenly than at this time of year. God is closing the door now, and opening a new window for us, beckoning us forward to see what the Messiah will have for us next. We have enjoyed the abundance of the harvest, shared it with family and friends, but now we must close the chapter on what was and move into the unknown, the mystery that is God With Us once more. It is a time of anticipation, hope, expectation.