I’ve been having trouble finishing my final advent reflection these past few days. In fact, I’ve been having trouble reflecting on Advent (or anything) these past few weeks. I’ve longed to remember what it means to wait and hope in these darkening days, but my mind is blocked, muddled, and filled almost solely with thoughts of how best to comfort Jude’s nearly round-the-clock teething pain.

Jude’s angst this past month has been sadly reminiscent of his colic days. We thought those days and nights would never end as they lingered long and dark and lonely. In the weeks where crying and white noise were our symphony, we tended to Jude’s wounds, licked our own, and waited.

And we waited.

We never wanted to wish time away. We knew somehow those hours singing “Sweet Baby James” and “Stardust” to Jude were precious in their own messy way. We knew that taking him for long walks, putting him in the bathtub with me, or wearing him in the wrap at 3 a.m. were the stuff memories were made of. We knew the tears and the ache would be redeemed as they bound our little family together in a way it wouldn’t have been had Jude been an “easy” baby.

So we didn’t wish time away. We waited. As painful and devastating as it was, we waited. We cried Jude’s tears with him and then cried our own. We asked questions and doubted and researched and made doctor visits and talked to moms and dads who knew about colic first-hand.

And we waited.

And then, one day, an ordinary Tuesday to be exact, the waiting was over. With a ten-minute chiropractic adjustment, Jude was suddenly and gloriously free. Free from pain. Free from his undying ache. Free to be who he was born to be.

We saw his personality shine through in those post-colic days like never before. I always knew he’d be a spitfire – he was from the moment I first felt him backflipping in my womb. But he proved to have more spunk and fire, humor and tenderness than I’d ever imagined.

He smiled.
He slept.
He urgled and gurgled.
He laughed.
He drank life in with intensity, curiosity and passion.

I think that must be what happens at the end of all waiting. The truest version of a thing finally appears: uncovered, raised up, born. All the broken parts become a whole – and life begins. And, on some ordinary day, Love comes on the scene and brings Grace and Truth in His wings.

Tags: advent, colic, hoping, waiting  |  Posted under life stuff  |    No Comments