On this first week of Advent, Rachel Varghese, a self described introvert and homeschooling mama, reflects on hope. 

Out my kitchen window, I see the forest preserve trees left their imprint of scattered leaves as it shakes off any last sign of growth over my backyard. I’m sipping my too hot coffee as quickly as possible before I hear the little feet come down the stairs. I try to ground myself for the day, but as a mom of littles, it is nearly impossible.  

Many of my friends in the Midwest enjoy the change in seasons. They love experiencing the shift in weather, the leaves change color, and new seasonal drinks. However, the change in seasons just tugs on my anxiety. I anticipate the mental load of getting winter clothes out and sorting through what still fits. I anticipate the sun disappearing for six months and having to take extra Vitamin D. 

My daughters, on the other hand, seem to embrace our midwestern life. Even when I anticipate the extra time we’ll need to get out the door with all the layers, they are itching for the Christmas trees to go up and snow to cover the driveway. Every year, I attempt to muster whatever Christmas magic and spirit I can create that won’t require a Pinterest board. I try to bring joy and laughter for my kids, but I’m a covert Grinch.

I scoff at the gift exchanges, white elephants, or parties where I’m supposed to make another thing. I’m annoyed by all the gifts I need to wrap and the way scraps, crafts, and glitter I didn’t even buy end up in my home. With all the extra social obligations and winter programs we now have, this introvert is wiped out. I wrestle with the tension of how much I can say no to when I have a family who wants to do it all.

I wasn’t always a Grinch, but over the years, the heaviness of life took a toll and taught me to brace myself for the next thing. I have learned to graciously give myself space and permission to care for myself. I adjust plans to save as much energy in the busyness of a dark winter. But as I dig a bit deeper, I notice that some of my dread this season has gotten in the way of finding and practicing hope.

While my anticipation for the Advent season can be filled with dismay, the faith-filled hope of Mary in Luke 1 reveals a stark contrast. Mary, a young woman, betrothed to be married, receives a promise that she will carry and birth the Son of God. As an unmarried, pregnant woman, Mary would have received this news knowing the judgment it would bring, and yet her response is remarkable. The Scriptures tell us she hurried to her relative Elizabeth’s home, and after Elizabeth greets her with a prophetic blessing, Mary bursts into joyful song.

It seems this news of a baby in her engaged state does not lead to anxiety but to worship.

Not fear of, “What will people think of this news?” But trust and gratitude.

Not dread over caring for a child in their political climate and social location, but hope.

Her song is full of confidence founded on the realization that this baby is how God was fulfilling  his promise.

Throughout the Old Testament, the Israelites wrestled with the Scriptures and waited for a Messiah to fulfill God’s promise to Abraham, to David, and even back to Adam and Eve in the Garden. That one day, the people exiled from the Garden would be able to make a way back again. In every generation, as various leaders rose up, perhaps they wondered, “Is this the One?” It seems the people of God lived in anticipation. They lived with hope. As seasons changed, generations came and went, they looked forward to God’s promise of Eden.

Isaiah writes, “The Lord will surely comfort Zion and will look with compassion on all her ruins; he will make her deserts like Eden, her wastelands like the garden of the Lord; joy and gladness will be found in her, thanksgiving and the sound of singing.” (Isaiah 51:3)

We named our daughter Eden because as I was studying Genesis in 2020, I started to meditate on God’s heart and intention to return his people to the Garden of Eden. When life felt very much like a wilderness, I held onto this promise that God would bring comfort and restoration, and even joy and gladness again. Now this namesake resonates even more richly for me, as I along with the original hearers of this passage who also were waiting for this flourishing, hope for that redeemed-Edenic state.

I relate to the Old Testament people, living in my own liminal space of waiting. Waiting for my daughter’s health needs to be resolved. Waiting for relief for my chronic pain. Perhaps some of us are waiting for justice to prevail, for peace amidst tension, for provision in a season of scarcity. Aren’t we all waiting for our own “Eden”?

The One they were waiting for, the Answer to the covenant was within reach. Mary’s song speaks to what’s happening, “It’s here.” She expectantly sings of God ushering a new kingdom where the humble are lifted, the hungry are full, and the proud are brought down.

Even though she faced months of social disgrace and an uncertain future, she clung to what she knew. Mary’s confidence that “no word from God will ever fail” reminds me that even in our own liminal space, He is going to come through (Luke 1:37). He already has won what could have seemed hopeless to a people waiting. Perhaps my anticipation can turn to hope as I remember, like Mary, that God does not forget us. Even in the middle of living in the now and not yet, He is reliable. Whether in honest lament or unabashed joy, I can keep going because He looks after his children. God has an intention to return us to the Garden. In this liminal space, we can trust God is making things all right.

At the birth of Jesus, Scripture tells us Mary “treasured” or “pondered” all these things in her heart. She wondered and worshiped. Instead of living in the dread of this season, I return to faith that hope could be found in the clutter and chaos and that I too can find wonder and worship. Just like my girls anticipate the lights on our Christmas tree to flicker on each evening, I rest knowing the Light of the World has come, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Rachel C. Varghese is a homeschooling mama, writer, communicator, and creative who desires to help people find healing and belonging — from their inner child to their place in the Church. In her free time, she loves exploring new coffee shops, adding to her bookshelves, playing music, and singing with her daughters. Rachel has been published in a blog hosted by Christianity Today, Chasing Justice, and Resolute Magazine. Connect with Rachel on Instagram, @rachelcvarghese, and at her Substack: rachelcvarghese.substack.com