THE TALE OF THE RED-HAIRED ANGEL IN CARDBOARD WINGS
[AKA, A STORY OF ADVENT JOY]
"Stop it. Stop. IT!" she whispered at the top of her lungs.
The candle flames wobbled, and the Advent wreath tipped forward and back. The young mom's mind flashed with visions of a fiery end to the beautiful old wooden sanctuary. She watched in horror and embarrassment as the wreath swayed back and forth on its antique stand.
“Stop IT!” she mouthed again as nervous laughter spread through the pews. Her son—her red-haired angel in his oversized robe and cardboard wings was holding the post, swinging and spinning it round as the flames flickered precariously close to disaster.
I was that little red-haired angel during the church Christmas program. Thankfully, a wise and gentle adult ushered me away from the advent wreath, and the church building still stands today. My parents love to remind me of that story, and we laugh every time they do.
I thought of it amid Sunday's beautiful, holy chaos of our children’s Christmas program at church. As the unpredictability of kids, microphones, and people of all ages unfolds, there is always a tension between stress and joy. Resigning to stress and perfectionism is easy, but it rarely bears good fruit.
This week, we also lit the candle of joy in our liturgy—a flicker of hope and warmth amid the Advent season. Sunday was filled with the kids' loud and exuberant joy. It was beautiful, and I’m still smiling. But joy, as we know, isn’t always loud or exuberant. Sometimes, it comes as a whisper, as still as a flame in a dark room.
We often find joy in small, ordinary moments like a child’s laughter or an unexpected kindness. Joy doesn’t demand perfection; it’s not the absence of struggle. Joy invites us to notice, gaze at, and embrace beauty even when it’s hard. So, let’s lean into it!
"If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. ... Joy is not made to be a crumb." (Mary Oliver, From "Don’t Hesitate")
I love that! “Joy is not meant to be a crumb!” No, joy is a feast! It is our confidence in God’s loving presence with us, even while we struggle. The joy of the lord is our strength (Nehemiah 8:10), and we all could use a little strength!
Where have you seen a glimpse of joy this week, no matter how small?
How might you pause to allow joy to surprise you today?
Take a moment this week to pause and light a candle at home (or even just sit with the glow of a candle nearby). Let its quiet warmth remind you of the joy already present and yet to come.
You are doing good and holy work—and I see the light you bring. Thank you for showing up for each other. Joy to you this Advent.
You know, Brian, this line from your essay today - "there is always a tension between stress and joy" - reminds me of a similar phrase I came up with while writing my book, WAITING WITH PURPOSE. I often speak of "straddling the space between hope and fear" when describing the tension of waiting.
Advent, of course, is a season of anticipation, of patient waiting. We exist in that state of holy tension. We learn to value the strange and mysterious phenomenon of the present moment, which incorporates where we've been into where we're going.