I have lost my Christmas mojo.  Whether my shoes are too-tight or my heart is now two sizes small thanks to a steady diet of lack of sleep and proper exercise, I am feeling uber-Grinchy.  I have yet to wrap the few gifts I purchased. Though I’ve planned out my Christmas Day menu(I’ll be making my debut as this year’s family dinner hostess), I am not buzzing with anticipation.  Despite the rain outside, there is a sense of dryness, that I’m in an emotional desert.
Back in 2007, much was made of Mother Teresa’s experience with “spiritual dryness,” upon the publication of Come Be My Light, a book of her correspondence spanning decades.  Through letters to her spiritual directors and superiors, we learned that the Nobel Peace prize winner grappled with loneliness, frustration, and doubt.  It was hailed as a new perspective on a modern saint but more importantly, as a testament to the struggle of faith.  Though I have only read excerpts, I did and still do appreciate how it validates a universal dilemma, to keep believing when our hearts and minds are weakened by circumstance or emotion.  It is a problem I know too well. I have had many dark nights of the soul and wonder if my current bout of gloominess isn’t evidence that one is forthcoming.

Advent means waiting.  As the Advent season comes to an end, I am waiting.  I am waiting for that wonderful feeling of expectation to resurface. But as with previous times, I am pushing forward.  I won’t stop the work of love simply because I feel different or distant at the moment.  I will love on and know that the light will return.