“Daddy, it’s Admint!” an excited voice calls down the hall.
“Hana Kate, it’s Ad-vent,” I counter.
“Daddy! It’s Ad-mint!”
We are all excited, and we sit down to read our first reading.
“Daddy, let’s pray!”
“Not yet, I answer,” while Eden climbs back to me unsure of what the excitement is all about, but excited nonetheless.
We read. We pray. We sing.
Daniel plays the guitar, and I attempt to sing along to “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” squinting at the computer screen and trying to remember the words as my view of the computer is blocked.
“Did you know that Emmanuel means God is with us, Hana Kate?” Daniel asks. “He’s with us all the time!”
“Uh-huh. Does God be with other people, too?”
We smile, and I excitedly tell her that this is one of the things that makes God unique; one of the things that only God can do: be with everyone at the same time, all the time.
Then we light the first candle.
We all stare as it burns, thinking of our gratitude to God for having this special time to remember, to long as a family, still somewhat distracted by the newness of it all to us.
“Are we going to have hot chocolate to count down the days to Christmas?” I’d promised we would, so we do. She’s new to hot chocolate as of this morning, but anything involving chocolate brings great excitement.
Then, like a vapor it’s over.
She blows out the first candle and now all that’s left is the smell of blown-out-candle-smoke hanging in the room, reminding us of the first candle. It’s a vapor: a reminder of the brevity of our own lives.
But some vapors leave a mark as they go. I’m praying this one will..