Good Things Come to Those Who Wait
Our son Leland has a few different Advent calendars. One is fabric lovingly made by his Aunt Sheryl, which comes out each year. It hangs on the back of the front door, and as he bounds down each morning, he moves the button from felt pocket to felt pocket. The other is by Lego: a small token each day of only a few pieces that take their place in a winter diorama of life in brick.
Recently, one of his babysitters offered to bring him some of her old toys, which are becoming popular again (if you must know, they’re called Beyblades—you’re welcome, grandparents). Leland was thrilled. You would never imagine a youngster so eager for his parents to have a night out: “Can my babysitter come this weekend? When is my babysitter coming again?”
He was ecstatic when we told him that this same babysitter is finally coming over this weekend. “Yes! I finally get my Beyblade,” Leland exclaimed.
“I’m sorry, buddy—but I asked her not to bring it,” I replied softly and as compassionately as I could. The tears flowed, and his stomping on the floor echoed through the house. I followed behind, attempting to comfort him.
With Christmas coming, our son, who wants for little in life, will receive an avalanche of generosity. We still have unopened science kits and bug-catching sets in storage from three years ago. Treading lightly, I explained that very soon, he’s getting so much. And that to accept and enjoy those gifts in the best way possible, we have to be ready. We have to make room in his closets and cubbies. I cannot let him have new gifts right now.
Calming down, he said, “Okay, Dad—but when?” with red eyes but dry cheeks. I pointed to the Advent calendar. And Leland realized he had forgotten about advancing the day. So he leaped up and moved the button. And he counted. And knowing ‘when’ made patience palatable.
I needed that reminder more than my son. This season is about preparing Him room: Emmanuel—God with us. And preparing room beside us for others in the pews. The difference is I know ‘when’—we all do. God assures us of his grace and mercy. I will take heart and be comforted in the counting.
