Not long ago, while thinking about upcoming Christmas festivities, I tossed on a sweater and headed outside for some fresh air to calm my nerves. I was steeling myself for an influx of people I love but don\u2019t like very much \u2014 one relative in particular.<\/p>\n
How different this all was from my teenage daydreams. Back then, at this same family home, I\u2019d stay up late in Mom\u2019s old rocker, the lights out except for the twinkles of the Christmas tree. I would imagine romantic cuddles with a future Prince Charming, and a wholesome scene of little ones crowded around a piano \u2014 my someday children as picturesque as the von Trapps and only slightly less musical.<\/p>\n
Instead, here I was. Married with children, yes \u2013 and forever grateful for those blessings \u2013 but ever discovering that the vocation to \u201cimage the Trinity\u201d with my husband is more about daily sacrifices than daily cuddles, and that my four little ones are more likely to be bickering than singing around a piano (which no one knows how to play anyway).<\/p>\n
On top of these regular family stressors, the thought of entertaining difficult-to-like extended family was almost enough to make me wish we could skip Christmas. This was the holiday bliss that everyone sings carols about and decorates for?<\/p>\n
Bah humbug.<\/p>\n
In the midst of my frustrated tramp tramp tramping<\/em> outdoors, the voice in my soul finally managed to make itself heard above my grumbling. Lean into this, child. This is the longing you\u2019re supposed to feel for something bigger and better. You so often forget that you\u2019re on a journey \u2026 not yet home.<\/em><\/p>\n Lean in.<\/em> Take the difficulties with relatives and the disappointments of the holidays as opportunities to grow in love, in longing for what\u2019s infinite. Lean in.<\/em> Give up the expectation that things on earth will have the harmony and unity found only in heaven, and understand that you\u2019re on a journey and not at the point of arrival. Lean in<\/em>. Accept. Embrace. And yes, even enjoy.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy are you cast down, O my soul, and why are you disquieted within me?\u201d <\/em>That\u2019s the question asked by the psalmist (42). But my soul could answer from the same psalm:\u00a0Lord, it\u2019s because \u201cmy soul thirsts for you, for the living God. When shall I come and behold the face of God?\u201d <\/em>When will we be freed from this mountain of little frustrations \u2014 bickering kids and bothersome relatives and dashed daydreams? When, O Lord?<\/p>\n When you get Home,<\/em> he tells me.<\/p>\n Saint Elizabeth Ann Seton understood this truth, even as a young woman, when the struggles that would define her life were only just beginning. When she was twenty-three, in a letter to her dearest friend Julianna Scott, Elizabeth Ann wrote,<\/p>\n \u201c[Y]ou remember the day we rode as far as Hornbrooks on the East River? When we had ascended the hill and were viewing the delightful scenery in every direction, I told you that this world would always be good enough for me, that I could willingly consent to be here forever. But now, Julia, since that short space of time, so thoroughly is my mind changed that nothing in this world, were all its best pleasures combined, would not tempt me to be otherwise that what I am \u2014 a passenger.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n Those are the youthful words of a future saint. For the rest of us, such simple wisdom usually comes with age. When we\u2019re young and all is rosy, and \u201cresponsibility” means nothing more than setting the table or taking out the trash, this world can seem \u201calways good enough.\u201d But it doesn\u2019t take long before the frustrations start to grow, and eventually they can feel overwhelming.<\/p>\n That\u2019s when we must remember that we\u2019re passengers in this life, as Mother Seton put it, or pilgrims, as other spiritual writers have described it. And that change in perspective places our daily struggles and frustrations in a new light.<\/p>\n My children are young yet, so car rides are \u2026 well, for me, they\u2019re just this side of torture, with a few moments of peace sprinkled in. It\u2019s bliss when all of us are strapped within the same small space, cozy and together. For about five minutes. And then someone starts complaining about something and the yelling starts.<\/p>\n In those moments we must try to live by the words of Servant of God Dorothy Day: \u201cAll the way to heaven is heaven.\u201d That only becomes possible when we realize that a car ride is a means to an end. We crawl into the car because we have a destination in mind, one that\u2019s worth the car seats and the snack cups and the port-a-potties and the motion sickness. And if the destination is exciting enough, the car ride is transfigured \u2013 we may even experience some moments of bliss.<\/p>\n That\u2019s exactly what this life is, child. A car ride to somewhere exciting. Lean into the frustrations because they are miles earned on the journey to the destination. Lean into the dissatisfaction. Let it cause yearning to grow in you.<\/em><\/p>\n Advent and Christmas are the perfect times to let this yearning in us grow, because they\u2019re so often filled with stress, as well as dismay that what should be practically perfect \u2013 according to the greeting cards and commercials \u2013 simply isn\u2019t.<\/p>\n This longing for eternity is also what we experience in the liturgy during these seasons. Our anticipation of Christ\u2019s birth helps us to anticipate his Second Coming. The Mass readings and prayers direct our thoughts to our ultimate home, where lions will lie down with lambs and bothersome relatives won\u2019t be bothersome anymore. And maybe my kids will be singing around some angelic piano!<\/p>\n Mother Seton has more to say about these frustrations of life, the \u201cmere nothings\u201d:<\/p>\n