This Advent Brings A Different Kind Of Waiting

By MARY ANNE CASTRANIO, Staff Writer

Published: December 11, 2003

As I write this, my brother is traveling home to us.

He’s one of those patient, dedicated soldiers now serving in Iraq, stationed on a big base near An Nasiriyah in the southern part of the country. I guess I should feel somewhat relieved that he’s not in the combat zone, but my worrying extends to those I’m not related to who are still risking their lives in the dangerous areas. And, as my brother says, the criminals roaming the countryside with guns and car bombs are everywhere. He jokingly says that the fear of death has a way of keeping you from falling asleep on those long road trips in Iraq.

This Advent, my brother’s traveling brings a new kind of waiting and worrying, as he rides through a dangerous country and takes numerous flights through several cities to finally end up in the arms of his wife, children and the rest of the family. He will arrive home sometime this week, which will be a great relief. He sent word by e-mail to friends and family to meet him on his way home from the airport at the Wendy’s in our hometown. I’m certain a large crowd will greet him. If the plane goes down over the Atlantic, he says, meet at the McDonald’s across the street. One of my favorite things about my brother is his sense of humor.

Preparation has been an important part of our waiting during this Advent. My sister-in-law puts out a new little American flag in their yard every day, not only to mark the number of days that he’s been gone but also to celebrate the fact that he is one day closer to coming home for good. She’s continued to raise their five teenagers, who have been wonderfully cooperative in their dad’s absence. Celebrations, parties, dinners, gifts and family time have all been enthusiastically planned for his days at home. And in spite of anything you may have heard, he did not schedule this homecoming to coincide with the opening of the new “Lord of the Rings” movie. I think.

He’s traveling home right at this moment, and our family is praying constantly throughout the day for his safe arrival. My mom is giving Our Lady of the Snows a “good workout,” as she calls it. Those prayers of hers always seem to work.

My brother’s visit home will last just two weeks. He was lucky enough to have his “vacation from the war” scheduled for during the holidays, so we can have the usual family togetherness and maybe even pretend for a little while that he doesn’t have to go back. Our large family is very close, and we’ve always spent Christmas together. It’s like attendance at Sunday Mass—if someone is missing, the celebration is just not the same.

After Christmas, he’ll go back for more months, months we couldn’t imagine when he first left last February. We just knew he’d be done and back for good by now. He is missed, not only by his family and friends, but also by his co-workers and the students at the high school where he is an assistant principal. Every time I hear of another soldier dying over there, I think about all of the people back home who have waited so patiently for his or her return. I think of the empty places at the table.

This waiting and preparing for our beloved brother, son, and husband seem to have made our Advent prayers more poignant, more intense.

In Advents past, we’ve waited anxiously like this but for different reasons, praying just as hard. Fifteen years ago, we waited for the arrival of my brother’s son, who was born on Dec. 23. Four years ago, we waited for the arrival of my sister’s son, as she struggled through a difficult pregnancy (with happy result of my nephew Max).

In particular, it seems that my family has a tradition of waiting for sons to come home at Christmas. Waiting is something we are used to doing. We have always waited in joyful hope, preparing for the one who was coming. We have been blessed with safe arrivals.

The comfort of Advent is the knowledge that our waiting and preparations are always rewarded. Jesus always arrives, even as we celebrate His birth once again in the great cycle of the liturgy. He walks with us with our worries and in our waiting. He shares our pain and our joy and gives us the hope to carry on.

And when my brother returns to Iraq just after Christmas Day for the rest of his tour of duty, when the waiting starts again, we will continue to pray … for him and all the soldiers around the world waiting to come home. We’ll pray that their endeavors will be for the good of others. We’ll ask for his continued safety and his patience and his gladness in serving our country and our Lord.

The following Advent prayer has had a special meaning for me this season. May it speak to you as it speaks to me:

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me a wonder at the wisdom and power of Your Father and ours. Receive my prayer as part of my service of the Lord who enlists me in God’s own work for justice.

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me a hunger for peace: peace in the world, peace in my home, peace in myself.

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me a joy responsive to the Father’s joy. I seek His will so I can serve with gladness, singing and love.

Come, long-expected Jesus. Excite in me the joy and love and peace it is right to bring to the manger of my Lord. Raise in me, too, sober reverence for the God who acted there, hearty gratitude for the life begun there, and spirited resolution to serve the Father and Son.

I pray in the name of Jesus Christ, whose advent I hail. Amen.

Please come home soon, long-expected brother.