The church bell awoke her. The song from the loud speaker reminded her that it was the first Sunday of Advent. She sat up on her bed, listened to its appealing lyrics and its slow rhythm. Out of the window the grey color between day and night took her sometime to recognize her familiar neighborhood. Everything was so still that she could hear the gentle cool breeze penetrating into her skin. She never ever smelt or tasted something as delicious as the moisture of the twilight of the first day of December. She was alone, the stillness of the twilight stirred her heart and she realized that she was having an eccentric feeling that she could not describe. It was neither happy nor sad but she knew it was something. It disturbed her. Even during the five –year college period, that strange feeling came back at every beginning of Advent.
It did not come back after that and withered from her memory since then. Thus she felt sorry for it. Sometimes she tried to listen to the same old Advent song but she was helpless. At this moment she realizes that it was a precious feeling that she has been longing for and it is clear to her now.
The song in the speaker reminded her of her memory in the parish where the choir sang at the dawn of every Advent. Yet it was not just that. Her heart went with the song to the deep blue sky which triggered the nostalgia for home: the home of her parents and the home of her self. She felt the deep yearning for the inner home of her heart. The urging was so strong that it led her to look for solitude and to listen to the silence deep in her heart. She found herself going out to visit sick friends, writing letters to her parents, sparing some of her money preparing the Christmas project for the homeless. The season of Advent was passing slowly, peacefully and meaningfully. She was satisfied and grateful.
It is raining on this first day of Advent. She is recollecting, praying that she may experience being home again. So many things are preoccupying her. She realizes that the familiar Advent song is too soft, too slow that she cannot get into it. Oh, how her heart feels empty! It is restless; it is yearning for peace, for solitude. She feels that she is trapped. It is only the first day of Advent but her mind is preoccupied with so many things to be done for Christmas. How many parties to prepare, what gifts to give and to receive, what decorations to put, how many cards to send, what songs to sing, etc. She is caught in anxieties and too many concerns.
She remembered her friend who one day shared with her that the road the least traveled and the farthest is the path to one’s own heart, because it is too rough and unclear sometimes. She has many reasons to be excused from reality. Yet her heart’s desire does not let her just go on. She does not want another exhausted Christmas. She wants to relive again the church’s bell, the old Advent song, the delicious dew and the mysterious color of the twilight of Decem
ber. She misses the urging disturbance that gives meaning to her heart’s content.
-Sr. Le Thi Nhon Hoa, ACI ,
