Paper crumples. Cinnamon roll crumbles. Boxes and bags, ribbons and tags, smashed and bashed, are tucked into the corner for now.
The bed isn’t even made. A morning routine chore as routine as brushing teeth. Come to think of it that didn’t happen either.
It is The Day After.
The day after The Day we’ve all been running toward for the last four weeks.
The day after the angels heralded and the sky hallelujah-ed.
All is calm. All is quiet.
Angels and shepherds have gone home.
After birth clean up is done.
Has our Adventus journey come to an end?
What now…now that the story itself has gone silent? With the exception of Jesus’ parents wanting to put His face on a milk carton when he was twelve, the narrative of the gospel does not pick things up again with Jesus until He is thirty years old.
Why the sudden silence?
Why, God, do You not speak at times?
You must know that so many of us are afraid of the silence.
It is hard enough when we don’t see.
But, when we don’t hear…
One feels…so alone.
This, society dictates, must be avoided.
It is why so many of us grip the device to stay wired and connected
All The Live Long Day.
We fill the silences with pings and dings and buzzes and vibrations because we cannot, we must not, be kept out of the loop. We forget that God is so different from us. We forget that when God goes silent it does not mean He has pulled the plug. We forget the He is still so very connected.
And Jesus grew in wisdom and stature, and in favor with God and man.
Jesus was growing into the very thing God had promised from the beginning. What the angels proclaimed, the shepherd’s saw, the magi witnessed and what Anna and Simeon declared, took root and roots do their best work in the dark.
Thirteen little words expressing a life time of growing and favoring.
We forget the power of little words, therefore we can so easily forget the majesty of The Word.
I cannot see what is happening in the dirt underneath the snow blanket in my backyard. I cannot hear the seedlings pushing pushing pushing toward spring when at last they will be revealed in all their flowering splendor.
But I know.
I know that it is a matter of time….that time matters….silence matters….even obscurity has its good work to do…that in the fullness of that time I will see and hear again.