Advent is just around the corner, and perhaps the cringy-est liturgical living ghost is about to appear: the Advent Grinch.

I get it. It bothers you that December is filled with Christmas parties, sales, community events, and  movies. Because it is NOT Christmas, and you DON'T want to celebrate it already.
However, it's probably bad for evangelization to put down the secular world trying to participate in a season it vaguely remembers and longs to hold. It seems counterproductive to be against celebrating such an important season, even if it is done a little off time. They're trying.

Instead of making Advent a protest against the secular world celebrating imperfectly, it seems far more charitable to stop policing Advent as a negative and start celebrating it as a positive.

The Little Lent

If you want to make sure your family is clear on the difference between Advent and Christmas, a simple way to start is embracing the penitential aspect of the season. Have you noticed how the liturgical color is purple, the same as during Lent? Advent is a "little Lent", a second preparatory and penitential season. Picking a mortification as individuals or as a family can help focus the season.

This comes with a caveat - your mortification cannot force the mortification of others. It's just unkind and negates the individual discipline of the practice. If you want to give up "going to Christmas parties during Advent" largely because you want a reason to not attend those gatherings, that might need a little more examination. Are you really doing a private mortification to prepare your heart for the coming of Christmas or are you falling into pride? Telling your friend that you aren't attending their party because it's inappropriate to have Christmas parties in Advent is probably going to embarrass your friend and cause harm to that relationship.
You don't have to accept every invitation, but you do have to exercise kindness and charity.


Pick and Choose

Although we are generally able to better accept Lent will look a little different for each of us, we aren't always as generous with variation when it comes to Advent. Instead it's easy to fall into the trap of trying to do ALL THE THINGS. Jesse Tree, Advent wreath, special feast days and the feast days that don't resonate with your family.

 You don't have to do any of it. It's nice, they can make good memories, but if it is causing you to be stretched thin or beat yourself up for forgetting the Jessie Tree again - maybe you're better off simplifying.


It's fine to do what works for you.

The only Advent traditions we do are the ones that have deep meaning for us, we enjoy doing, and that help us orient towards Christmas. For us St. Nicholas, St. Lucia, Ember Days, Advent wreath, and slow decorating make the cut. That's it.

We don't do much of anything for Our Lady of Guadalupe now, we don't do Jessie Tree, hunt for the baby Jesus, or many other fine and dandy traditions. What you do once does not actually mean you are trapped in celebrating in a particular way forever. Extend yourself the grace to grow and change, and it makes it easier to extend that to others.

Lean into the Christmas season.

The single easiest way I have found to not be an Advent Grinch is to make my Christmas season radically different from Advent. We lean way into the Christmas season. The 12 Days of Christmas (Christmas to Epiphany) are both highly celebratory and laid back. We are off from school and outside classes. We make ourselves available to welcome friends and family. I prep freezer meals and cookie dough and do a deep clean during the Ember Days. That leaves me free of lots of household duties during the 12 Days of Christmas.

It doesn't need to be fancy. In fact, it probably shouldn't be fancy.

If you want some ideas for this time, you can check out my 12 lists for the 12 Days of Christmas post.
Haven't heard of these Ember Days I mentioned? Here's a little about them.

Want a breakdown of how to prep during Advent for this truly relaxing (even for mom) 12 Days of Christmas? Check out this post.

Was It Worth Being Open to Life When My Baby Died?

Last week I discussed the worth of walking down the wrong path. In that piece I focused more on saying a full yes to one vocation, only to ultimately learn that it was not meant for me. That time spent discerning was a gift instead of a waste.

It's relatively easy to accept that taking a risk on discernment will pay off somehow. But what about when the "wrong road" involves losing a child? What if it means losing multiple children? Was it still worth it?

I've shared a bit about our story from this summer. A very complicated miscarriage in June that didn't end until July when we also had to do surgery to remove a cystic tumor on my ovary (unrelated to miscarriage, I'm just lucky like that.) A subsequent miscarriage in September.

I don't think it truly was a "wrong road" to have been open to those pregnancies, but it was a wrong road in the sense that it did not lead to a living baby as one would hope. Roads that lead to heartache are roads most people would rather not travel. It's not wrong to feel that.

However, I wasn't anticipating how strongly my losses would result in me being avoided. Like miscarriage is catching. Like I have a bad luck virus. Even among women who have had miscarriages, my story is odd. This particular road is rare, and, perhaps the scariest of all, unavoidable.
My losses are not due to any underlying problem we have been able to identify. All three are more than likely due to bad luck. There is nothing I could have done to prevent them. There is nothing to do to avoid losing future children.

That terrifies people.

We don't like it, but it's true - being open to life will entail being open to death. Whether we accept that reality or not. A road that you thought was bordered by sunshine and daisies can turn into a nightmare in an instant. But it's still a grace to be on that road. It is better to have been open to grace and cooperating with it, than to have prevented the heartache with sameness.

Heartache is a reminder of the power and size of your yes. When your heart breaks over a sudden turn in the road, it lets you know how deeply you meant your yes. Heartache is a beautiful reminder that you were willing to become more. More open, more loving, more a follower of Christ. This is not the "be more" of Pinterest inspirational quotes. This is the being more that is our invitation to accept God can do anything. We can be more his on this hard path.

God did not intend for your baby to die. Our God is not a cruel God. I think it's important to lay that out there.
The idea that this road has included loss, or losses, that furthers God's grace does not mean that you should not grieve. If anything it means grief will be so much more real.

A pothole in this road is the temptation to what I call the Pain Olympics. Comparing our pain to be greater than or less than the pain of others, and using that comparison to justify harmful behavior. This is not a healing strategy. The Pain Olympics only hands out loser awards. Even if you "win" it just means you are still hurting. We can do that without belittling the pain of others.

What I don't want to become is bitter on this road. Which does not mean I accept that the people who have reacted hurtfully in this process haven't hurt me. It's right to be hurt by hurtful things. It just means that instead of pretending these awful months didn't happen, I can use this experience to push for change. To allow the next woman walking her sudden wrong road to have someone next to her. To do the little things I can do. Cooperating with God's grace does not have to die with my babies. It can be the ultimate sign of their life.

Was this road worth it? 100% yes. Does it hurt? 100% yes.

Yes is a super power if we allow it to be.

What have been some of your unexpected "wrong roads"? How have you cooperated with Grace?

The Worth of Walking Down the Wrong Road

"I don't want it to have been a waste of time."
"I'm not sure if it will pay off."
"How can I be positive God is calling me?"

These are probably the top three responses I hear in discussions about discernment. They are the same responses when the discussion is about discerning a primary vocation, deciding to start a new venture, or listening for another kind of calling.
The underlying fear is the same: no one wants to start down the wrong road.

But what makes something "the wrong road" when you are choosing between good things?
I think most of us assume that any path that does not end in our eventual calling was a wrong road.
What if God might be calling you to walk one path for a while, but not arrive at your anticipated destination? What if it's not about finding out God's big picture plan, but more of a practice in letting him walk with you on every path?

This changes things. Now it's less about being sure and confident of God's will, and more being willing to come along on the adventure.

There have been two big roads in my life that could have been considered a wrong road, but have been incredibly important in shaping me, my faith life, and my vocation: my time spent discerning a religious vocation, and my miscarriages.

I'll cover the miscarriages in part 2, but I wanted to talk about discerning the religious life in particular today.

I wrote some thoughts on vocations as a wannabe nun called to marriage a while back. A question I got a lot from sharing that story was: Do you regret spending all that time discerning when the answer was no?
No, I think it was still worth doing, and I encourage everyone to discern this particular path if at all possible. I didn't get too far along in the process of actually entering an order, but I have friends who became postulates, took temporary vows, and spent years pursuing the religious life vocation only to discern out. Did they take a "wrong road"?

Religious discernment is not just a single person talking God's ear off until they get a yes or no answer. It involves a deep awareness of self, an honest evaluation of strengths and weaknesses, and relationships with a whole host of people. I think everyone can agree all of those things are well worth doing in order to grow into a mature adult faith. Doing so in a religious community brings with it a fundamentally changed relationship between the discerning person and Jesus and his Church.

When a woman discerns a religious vocation, she is discerning marriage with Jesus. That is, at a basic level, what is happening.
Want to start seeing God as a person and not just a far off in the sky being? Try dating him.
To discern out means reaching a point where Jesus lets you know that you are not meant to become a Bride of Christ. It's awful and wonderful.

Those of us who discerned out will forever have a relationship with Jesus that has a different kind of intimacy. I have personally found a connection with others who discerned the religious life. There is a grace that comes from the act of putting the question to God "Is this what you want of me?"

Regrets don't come from the good you were open to pursuing, they come from failing to ask the question out of fear of the what ifs.

Check back next week for Part 2 and what this all means when applied to being open to life and losing your baby. Especially multiple times.