The Yellow Light

It's the first day of Advent. My spirit is telling me, Slow down. Proceed, but proceed with care.

I've already been feeling overwhelmed. (That's code for stressed) When to decorate? When to bake? Prepare gifts? Find sitters for the engagements we have on the calendar? And strings of holiday lights swirl into a blur around me...

This is NOT what Christmas was intended to be. A celebration- yes. And celebrations do come with preparations. But is my heart prepared? How am I going about the preparations?

My natural tendency, which I'm fighting hard not to do right now, is to pump my body full of good, strong coffee, make my lists and conquer them.

But there's this yellow light. This yearning, this urgency to lightly press the brake pedal and look from left to right. To look around. To be aware. Cautious even. If I just stay on cruise control (or let's be real- HYPER SPEED) I might miss it. Miss everything.

The past few Advent seasons I've spent some time in a book I've mentioned before. It's really stirred me to the soul. And this Advent I'm journeying along through Ann Voskamp's The Greatest Gift. I'll leave you with a snippet.

"Big and glossy and loud and fast-that's how this bent-up world turns. But God, when He comes- He shows up in this fetal ball... The mystery so large becomes the Baby so small, and the infinite God becomes infant. The Giver becomes Gift, this quiet offering. This heart beating in the chest cavity of a held child, a thrumming heart beating hope, beating change, beating love, beating the singular song you've been waiting for- that the whole dizzy planet's been spinning round waiting for. 
Waiting.
Advent.
It come from the Latin.
It means "coming"."