Thanksgiving was a blessing; a bright day that broke through the fog of the surrounding weeks. Leading up to Thanksgiving, we’d been fighting mild colds, handling some stressful personal decisions, and helping my great-aunt recover from pneumonia.

My in-laws came for the week, which was a delight! Watching Michael bake with Oma and Beatrice cook with Opa was a highlight for me. We enjoyed sitting by the fire pit and playing games in the evenings — Michael especially loved Opa reading to him in funny voices from his dogmatic theology book.

Uncle James was a life saver and became a fast favorite playmate of Michael’s. He played cello (even figuring out how to play Farmer in the Dell for an insistent toddler), watched both kids so I could rest after a particularly rough night of sleep, and built endless railroad tracks and blanket forts.

It was also great to spend time with my siblings, who came home for a few days. I love watching them love my babies.

On Thanksgiving Day we had nearly 30 people around our tables — we were supposed to have more, but there were some unexpected illnesses and hospitalizations that prevented some from coming.

It’s a Thanksgiving tradition for us to dress nicely and take photos with friends and family. I think we got some great pictures, despite feeling under the weather. We got some great family shots for our Christmas card! And some hilarious outtakes too. Michael is quite a ham, and has learned to do fake grimaces when told to “smile”.

Unfortunately, directly after Thanksgiving Jake got a cold and I came down with a nasty flu. The flu spread to my parents and grandparents, though it thankfully missed the kids. But now both Michael and Beatrice have miserable runny noses and coughs, so we’re hunkering down yet again to weather out these illnesses. After nearly three weeks of sickness, all of us are anxious to be healthy again.

And now we’re in Advent. We’ve already been in the midst of the Nativity Fast since mid November, but as a family we still wait til the first Sunday of Advent to break out the Christmas decorations — a way we embrace both our Eastern and Western faith heritage.

Despite illness, we put up some Christmas decorations, and even put lights up outside for the first time since we moved here. Beatrice was quite excited by the sight of her first Christmas tree and tried to put everything in her mouth. Michael enjoyed watching Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer a bit more than he enjoyed decorating the tree, and has a new affinity for hot cocoa.

I had to explain the concept of stockings when Michael asked why we had “socks” hanging from the bookshelves. When I said that they’d have small gifts and treats to eat on Christmas Day, his response was, “like peanut butter and jelly?”

He’s had some more adorable “toddlerisms” lately.

My current favorite is him yelling at me from his room, “Come on Mama, I need someone to keep an eye on me!”

Whenever the dogs bark, he runs to the window or door proclaiming, “I’ll check it out!”

He asked if we could lock Bea up “in the cat’s room” (our laundry room) because she kept getting into his toys.

He also threw his wooden play food stick of butter into the air, happily screeching “ButterFLY!” over and over — I’m not sure who taught him that.

When he’s upset or pouting, he forlornly says, “I can’t do ANYTHING at ALL”.

After Opa finished helping him build a railroad track: “Opa! I’m so proud of you!”

And much to my chagrin, another recent quote was: “QUIET! My mama gets too much grumpy if it’s too loud.”

Advent has always been my favorite liturgical season. The more experience I have with my own human failings and with grief, the more I appreciate the quiet contemplation of Advent. I think of the refrain of the faithful: Come, Lord Jesus. The cry of Advent, the cry of the Church as we wait for the Second Coming. It contains such grief and pain, and yet such fierce hope and joy.

I just finished reading The Winter Pascha by Fr Thomas Hopko, which walks through the different celebrations and hymns of the Nativity fast and feast. It was beautiful and a much needed balm for my soul.

I’m in a season of life where I’m spread pretty thinly — like butter over too much bread, to paraphrase Tolkien. We’re learning as a family what we need to take care of ourselves physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I’m trying to learn my limitations before I run into them face-first, and often failing.

I’m reminded of my favorite poem by John Milton: Sonnet 19, written as he was going blind.

When I consider how my light is spent, 

   Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, 

   And that one Talent which is death to hide 

   Lodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 

   My true account, lest he returning chide; 

   “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?” 

   I fondly ask. But patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need 

   Either man’s work or his own gifts; who best 

   Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state 

Is Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed 

   And post o’er Land and Ocean without rest: 

   They also serve who only stand and wait.”

Sonnet 19, John Milton

Like Milton, I’m fighting despondency at my limitations. But who best bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.

This Advent, I don’t have much to offer. I am among those Milton references in that beautiful last line: they also serve who only stand and wait. Right now, all I’m doing — all I can do — is sit with these profound mysteries of the Church in the slivers of silence I have to myself, and pray.

Come, Lord Jesus.