When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.Matthew 1:18 (NRSV)
My mother was the one who brought Christmas. She kept the anticipation and, yes, the anxiety simmering from Thanksgiving weekend, when the first decorations were hauled from the attic to be modestly distributed in bedrooms and more lavishly laid in the living and dining rooms, to New Year’s Day, when the tree came down.
Mom taught my sister Lori and me to give up candy with her during Advent to show that “we’re waiting for Jesus,” though my father was exempt from what seemed a monumental sacrifice. And she was in charge of the candles—not only the electric candles that glowed in each window, but also the Advent candles, the focus of our grace before dinner on every Sunday in Advent.
To appease my father, with his abiding fear of fire, no live greenery surrounded the candles; even plastic pine cones were unacceptable, “just in case.” The four candles were set in a simple metal holder on the kitchen table. But unlike Advent candles in every other household and church in our community, Mom’s candles were not purple and pink. Traditionally, purple candles are lit on the first, second and fourth Sundays in Advent to symbolize waiting for Jesus. The pink candle is lit on the third Sunday as a foretaste of our joy in His nearing birth. But my mother’s metal wreath held four white candles.
There were two reasons for Mom’s unconventional choice: First, she believed our whole time of waiting for Jesus should be joyful. And reason number two? Purple and pink clashed with the rest of her decorations.
Jesus, let the pure light of Your coming birth burn away my worries and distractions.
