Persistence - 12/2/21

Do you have an Advent practice that you follow?

Perhaps you enter into the same practice every year. Perhaps you do some variation of the same thing. Maybe you like to try something new each time.

I am entering into my second year doing something that I never thought would be part of an Advent practice but has turned out to be such a good fit for me. It started last year when a friend invited others to join her in a drawing practice. There is a wonderful artist that posts a monthly list of “creative prompts” to get your juices flowing. Last December it included things like “three French hens” , “sparkling Christmas lights”, and “a house in the snow”.

I do not have a natural talent for drawing but it is a skill that I have worked over the years to develop. There was a time, not long ago, when I drew a picture in my journal every day. Those days are long over - but I still like to try my hand at drawing. So when the invitation came last year I said yes. And to my utter surprise, it became the most wonderful Advent practice I have ever engaged in.

And the reasons kind of surprised me. I think I had spent too many years trying to be holy in this time of waiting. Participating in study groups, adding prayer time to my daily activities, working, working, working, and often begin resentful as it took away my joy of this season.

I remember the two times I was pregnant with my children, and what this time of expectant waiting felt like. There was nervousness, there was discomfort as my body got larger and larger, but mostly there way joy at the new life that was stitching itself together inside my body.

For some reason, I never seemed to tap into an Advent practice that had that same sense of joyful waiting as my pregnancies. It all just felt like work.

Until last year, when I started drawing a simple picture each day - and something new took root. I found myself slowing down, sitting still, having my attention drawn into complete focus on the task at hand. Because I am not a very skilled drawer these daily sittings took time. Probably a half hour or more for each drawing. Often times I would have to draw and erase, draw and erase, draw and erase. Many days I was not satisfied with the outcome but realized it was good enough.

Most of all it invited me to pause, to enter into something creative and not commercial, to use my pencil to create something that previously had not existed in my notebook. And all the while I was learning and building new skills.

This year I decided to enter this practice again. Yesterday started with a simple drawing of a holiday mug. I took time to draw a version of the Christmas tea cups we have used each year since early in our marriage. Except now they are packed away in a storage unit it Texas. It felt delightful to have a version of it with me - even in paper form.

Today though - was more complicated.

It seemed simple enough - draw a paper cut snowflake. I put my pencil to paper and tried to remember what a paper snowflake looked like. I drew a blank so I pulled out my phone and did some searching, finally finding some images that seemed simple enough to copy. But no matter what I did with my pencil, I could not find the symmetry that was needed to create the image on my notebook.

I refused to give up. and went inside the camper to find a pair of scissors and some scratch paper. I came back outside and proceeded to cut out paper snowflakes - trying to remember how it worked. Allowing my fingers to guide me in something that I used to do all the time when I was little. It took a couple of tries but eventually I ended up with something that resembled a snowflake. I tried to trace it into my notebook but it came out all wonky. So I took out my scissors, patiently cut out another one, found a beautiful silver pen to color it in, and then tapped the finished product into my notebook. Not a drawing perhaps but still a creative endeavor for the season.

I ended with a sense of satisfaction but also with joy. How can you not be happy when you are cutting out paper snowflakes?

I am not sure if I have ever seen “persistence” listed in a book on monastic values, but I have a strong feeling that it is indeed one. The Rule of Benedict talks about how to receive new members and it is all about persistence. The inquirer is to be left knocking at the door for some time. If after a few days they are still there, they are to allowed to enter. Then they are put through a process of learning what life in the monastery will look like and given three opportunities to walk away. If, after all this time they persist, they are welcomed into the community.

And that is just one example of how persistence plays a role in the monks life.

The other day I watched a woman next to use hooking up her camper. She was much older and was traveling with another older woman who didn’t seem remotely interested in helping. While the elderly woman worked to hook up her camper her friend sat in the passenger seat scrolling away on her phone. Jason and I both were in meetings so we could not go out and help. All I could do was watch from the window as she tried over and over again.

For over forty five minutes the woman would get in the drivers seat, look in the review mirror, adjust the steering wheel, and back up. Then she would hop out and see if she was in the right place - which she never was. Over and over and over again she did this - never giving up - for almost an hour. Finally another camper came over to help her get lined up and she was hooked up and driving away in minutes.

As picked up my notebook this morning for my Advent practice I thought of her and this idea of persistence came to mind. That to persist in something and not give up takes time. And it teaches us about patience. About waiting. Themes pretty relevant to this season of Advent.

So this morning I am sitting with persistence and wondering about what it wants to teach me about Advent. Wondering what it might feel like to hold hands with the waiting and actually feel joyful. To not be impatient. To not give up. To keep knocking and knocking until the door finally opens. I think that I am slowly learning some of these skills, and I know that this treasure of a drawing practice is helping me along the way.

I hope your Advent practice is bringing you this kind of anticipation. This kind of creative joy. And that you are able to be persistent in practicing it.

If not, I invite you to join me in a little drawing practice. Or paper cutting practice as it turned out today.

I have a sense that this monastic value of persistence is at the heart of all things holy.