An Advent Response

to my friend Winn, this first week of Advent

Winn, my old building and loan buddy.

Gosh I’m glad you acted on the nudge to write. I had that very same thought last week—I oughta write Winn a letter. I guess great minds (HA).

It’s raining here in Arkansas, and cold. Wet cold. I just put up the Christmas tree. Meredith and I made a pact to decorate in stages, so hopefully by the weekend the green, it shall be hung! But for today, it’s simply the tree with lights. Plain, simple, stark. I like it. I’m leaving for work these peak-season-UPS mornings in the wee, small hours (and I mean wee) and I’ve noticed the lights on houses all week, a few more each morning. Seems to me something grand, very human in that desire to string lights. I don’t know whether the people in those houses believe in God or Christmas or UPS or what. It appears at least they believe in light, and maybe during these Adventish days that’s enough.

Man I hear ya on the Advent Inc. rigmarole. You were spot on when you said all that leaves no room for the ache. Sometimes I think all that is just another subtle way to avoid sitting in the ache. Maybe not. But maybe. For as you (and Isaiah) said, that ache’s a burner. I’m was in church this past Sunday too. And I got misty in a different moment. It came at the conclusion of the service, when we sang “Be Thou My Vision.” Now that’s a banger of a hymn right there. Anyway, there’s a line in the second verse that goes “Thou my great Father, and I thy true son.” ‘Course that’s talking about God, yes, yes, but when I sang it Sunday the words caused me to think about my great father. The leader of the band. Monday was his birthday, he’d of been eighty-four. It got me, man. That old familiar ache.

I’m glad you’re there for your sons as they make their ways in this valley of tears. As Clarence the Angel told George: “Strange, isn't it? Each man's life touches so many other lives. When he isn't around he leaves an awful hole, doesn't he?” It’s important you're there, Winn. Presence. I’m all for God breaking in with a boy howdy whopper of a Christmas miracle, if so I’ll take two please. But my gut tells me some of the hope we’re all banking on this season is to be found in each other, not like some savior, more like a father, or a friend. I sure need a friend this Advent. I’m thankful for ya, pal.

Your friend,

John