by Gary & Maxine Talbert

Just before Christmas 2003, a family in Kenya bought a sheep to fatten up. The ‘mama of the house’ had received a phone call from her daughter (our friend) in America saying that guests from Seattle would be visiting the following summer. She was so excited, she told her daughter, “I am going to buy the sheep today!”

When we arrived at the tidy mud house in the rural Kano Plains of Lake Victoria some six months later, that same sheep was made ready for a feast in our honor. We were offered the first servings, and the choicest bits of meat. Family members had converged on the homestead from faraway Nairobi and Mombasa to join in the festivities. Children performed the songs they had prepared to honor the guests.

Bedtime found us under brand-new mosquito nets in the only beds in the house, while family members crowded onto couches and mats on the floor. The following day we were taken around the district to see life in Kano – signs of drought and poverty in sharp contrast to the cheerful hospitality of our hosts.

Over the days of our visit, the family patiently (and with some amusement) taught us Swahili words and Luo customs. A special church service was held on a Thursday at the family’s church, in our honor. When our time together came to an end, seven or eight family members shifted our heavy bags from hand to hand as they walked us three miles along the rutted red dirt road to the taxi stand.

Just before Christmas 1996, a father in Fredricton, New Brunswick was battling traffic, hunting for that elusive parking space, fighting crowds, and growing short-tempered. He was on a search for the must-have toy of the year for his 3-year-old son – Tickle Me Elmo. Rumor had it that a few remained at Wal-Mart, and he was there with 300 other parents when the stampede began that left a clerk with torn muscles, broken bones and a concussion.

The father in our story was one of the lucky ones who had a beautifully wrapped Elmo under the tree for his son on Christmas morning. By New Year’s, it was shoved into a corner at the back of a closet.

Advent.
Meaning, literally, “to come”. Waiting for that which is to come.
Preparing for that which is to come.

What is it for which we wait?
The arrival of a long-expected and hoped for guest? Or the satisfaction of our fleeting desires?

How is it that we prepare?
Are we on tiptoe with excitement and expectation? Do we prepare our house to become a place of inclusion and comfort?
Are we generous with our gifts and extravagant with our love? Will we make sacrifices for our honored guest? Or, are we competitive, grasping, impatient, stressed, and ultimately bored?

This Advent season, may we the people of Bethany consider…

• For what and Whom do we wait?
• And how shall we prepare our hearts?