Watching and Waiting

The notes float hauntingly through the room, stirring something in the soul: a longing, a groaning, impatience for a promise fulfilled after years of darkness and despair.  The song was 'O Holy Night,' yes a strange music choice for August, but it was a random selection, not something I went looking for, but it reminded me of something innate in almost any good fairy tale: The Promise or Prophecy or whatever you want to call it.  It is that hope promised to return in the days of darkness and dismay, when light seems a myth and peace a dream, but yet, there it is, shining quietly, resolutely even when the world has quite forgot or cannot bring itself to believe.  Sometimes I think we moderns miss out greatly by not celebrating the ancient feasts and fasts of the church, remembering the yearning, watching, waiting of Advent, wondering at the Incarnation, solemnly pondering Lent, mourning on Good Friday, and the celebration of Easter and the anticipation of the Ascension.  Remembering those who lived through the events themselves, sharing their doubt, grief, fear, sorrow, hope, confusion, and joy reminds us that these were human souls, quaking mortals just like us in all their fears, doubts, failures, and triumphs.  Wondering what God was up to through all the long years of history.  We too easily look back at past events and wonder how people ever doubted or were confused, but hindsight is 20/20.  How the disciples thought the Cross was the end, how the people thought to make Him king, that He would conquer the romans and establish His kingdom right then and there, how His own family thought Him mad and sought to take Him home.

It is the truest fairy tale ever told, and the heart of every human story, whether we believe it or not.  All those long years of doubt and darkness, watching and waiting, but yet generation after generation only heard deafening silence while the miracles of the past were lost in mist, shadow, tears, and pain.  The world moved on and forgot The Promise, all but a few, and when it came, few were those who knew it for what it was and even then, everyone misunderstood what it truly was.  I suppose that is why I love fairy tales, for they are an echo of this great story that is not yet fully told.  They remind us of the Great Story in their small scale.  As we watch the hero fight and struggle, as we wait for the hope foretold, as evil looms large in the shadows round about, as despair and darkness cover the world, it stirs that part of us that knows the story is true, that it is out there waiting for us to not only discover it, but to embrace it, and thereby assume our own place in the Story of Life, else we can sit on the sidelines and watch, missing out on that for which we were made.