Pancakes for Advent

My holiday ranting officially began with this post and continued with this one. Although today's post also discusses the holidays, it is not a rant. Finally, something different.

It was about this time last year that I had an epiphany (no Advent pun intended) while driving home from work (you can read more about that here). I was generally frustrated with the general craziness of the holiday season and wishing I had more time to establish meaningful Christmas traditions with my family.

Christmas came and went, I quit my job, and the rest should have been history. But then my son died. And now, beginning the first holiday season without Weston, it's time for change. My mom remarked to me recently that her most difficult holiday seasons were also the most meaningful. As excruciating as every holiday, every event, every day, every breath is without my son, I am determined for all those excruciating moments that will add up to the rest of my life to mean something and reflect my values.

When it comes to the holiday season, what are my values? I am struggling with God's place in my life since losing Weston, as discussed here, so that question is not as easy to answer as it used to be. God is still important to me; that's why his seeming absence hurts so much, I suppose. Establishing a tradition that meaningfully observes the birth of Jesus is important and something I want to do for my daughter. Remembering Weston is important, every day. NOT giving in to the consumerist frenzy of the holiday season is important. Staying out of debt. An emptier calendar (easier to practice when one is swearing off most parties for the foreseeable future, but more difficult when it comes to the little ones in the household. Do we or do we not take Caroline to The Nutcracker? Etc.). Surrounding ourselves with family and friends. Helping others. Instilling a sense of wonder, reverence, and tradition in our daughter. Lately, observing the Christian calendar.

I am not Catholic, but I observed Lent this year. Looking back, that was a blissful time. I was newly pregnant with Weston, and the pregnancy was progressing normally at that point. I had just left my job, and my family was starting a new adventure. Little did I know that the "adventure" would actually be a catastrophe. Easter was April 8, and our world started falling apart on April 18.

So, here is our new tradition (drumroll, please): starting this year, we will observe Advent, the beginning of the Christian year. Not only am I not Catholic, I am also not any kind of expert on Advent, so I won't go there in this post, for fear of butchering the explanation. This blog post does a good job of explaining Advent, so I'll just let her blog tell you all about it, if you want to know. She describes Advent as "quiet," "somber," and "full of waiting and hoping" for the arrival of Baby Jesus. And I don't think it is a coincidence that Advent occurs during the darkest time of the year.

Among many other things, Advent is a perfect antidote to the ridiculous holiday frenzy imposed by our culture starting in OCTOBER now. In some ways, it will be easy to observe Advent this year, as I am struggling to live life without my son during what should have been his first Christmas season.

So, what will Advent look like in our family? Just as one can go all out for Christmas, one can really do it up for Advent. Some people do daily activities. Maybe we'll get to that point someday, but for now we will simply observe Advent as a family every Sunday evening. Because Advent is a period of somber waiting and expectancy, some people do not listen to Christmas music or put up Christmas decorations until right before Christmas, but we are not doing that either, even though the Christmas tree that is already up and the Christmas music that is already playing are not accurate reflections of how I am really feeling (and I'm not playing the music as much as in previous years; it just hurts too much).

A digression: I realize that this post, so far, makes it seem that I am making Advent about me, and starting a tradition that matches my feelings, rather than the expectant waiting for Baby Jesus. And I probably am, to an extent. But my son died barely four months ago. My brain doesn't work, my heart is broken, and I am in spiritual turmoil. Jesus came for people like me. For that I am grateful, and for that I will wait.

Anyway...

Advent involves, among other things, a wreath with five candles. Each week you light one candle (starting four Sundays before Christmas), and you light the final candle on Christmas Day, I think. Here is our "wreath," before we lit the first candle. Those are tealights around the big candle:

Yep, I told you I don't do Pinterest or anything crafty. So the wreath is more of a free form candle arrangement. A post-modern Advent, perhaps? Maybe by next week I'll have an actual wreath.

Our plan consists of a simple meal and a basic Advent prayer. We also started the Jar for Jesus. When Caroline does something sweet, we will write it down on a piece of paper and put it in the jar (It is a Christmas-themed jar. We are so not Advent purists.). Those are her gifts to Jesus. In case you're wondering, this is a slight variation on a tradition that my mother started when we were little.  I have completely turned into my mother.

One reason for Advent, at least for me, is to SLOW DOWN so we can actually enjoy the season together as a family. So I decided days ago that I would make chili and sourdough bread for our Advent meal. I got some free sourdough starter in the mail, but it is taking forever to activate. I bought the ingredients for the chili this morning and was so proud of myself for thinking so far ahead (eight hours before dinner is pretty impressive, if you ask me). But then I noticed a voicemail from yesterday. It was my grandma. Some of our extended family came into town from the Midwest last-minute, and she had invited us over for lunch.

So the Advent dinner was going to be prepared on the fly. But that's OK. I took Caroline over to my grandparents, and we spent a wonderful afternoon with my family. Both of my brothers were there too. Shannon has been pretty stressed lately, so he got five hours to himself. He is now a happy camper. There is no better reason to be rushed for dinner than because you whiled away an afternoon with those you love most. And, yes, we talked and cried about Weston.

So, dinner. We had no bread, and we had all this extra dough. So I made pancakes. We had pancakes and vegetarian chili for Advent. I burned my hand while cutting what I thought were mild Anaheim chiles, but my hands are still on fire hours later.

For the dinner itself, I brought Weston's urn over to the table. I started to read a simple, kid-friendly Advent prayer but couldn't get through it. Once I sat down to enjoy this wonderful meal with my precious family, the fact that we are starting a completely new tradition without our son, and Caroline's brother, on what should have been his first Christmas, was too much for me. Shannon had to finish reading the prayer.

Sigh...it's gonna be a long month.

We did enjoy dinner. The traditional Advent song is "O Come, O Come Emmanuel," one of my favorites. So I played it, and some other Christmas songs (courtesy of Mannheim Steamroller) on my iPhone during dinner.

Another holiday tradition I want to start is giving to a different charity each week during Advent season. I thought of this last week when I learned of Giving Tuesday (which I LOVE). Then an opportunity arose, and I gave to a fund that conducts medical research into treatment for Crohn's disease in honor of a friend's daughter, who is living with Crohn's. After watching Weston struggle and suffer (although not from Crohn's), I just wish I could take the pain away from all children.

So I started that tradition a little early. And I haven't even told Shannon about it yet. I suppose I should! I'm sure he'll be on board, though.

Weston's death was a major motivator in starting Advent this year. I feel quite somber, and I am now blessed and cursed with a sense of urgency that life is fleeting. Life, and the holiday season, is too short to fill it up with stress and meaningless piles of gifts. Weston's life and death changed us forever; our lives need to reflect that change, starting NOW.

As far as truly awaiting the arrival of Baby Jesus is concerned, I feel a sense of reverence, but not much more. I suppose that could be God starting to refill the gaping void he left me when Weston died. I hope it is. Christmas without Jesus would truly be meaningless.