Very Pregnant in Advent

We're in the third trimester here. That time that things get uncomfortable-- hips sore, body heavy, bathroom breaks a little too frequent. I love pregnancy artwork-- paintings, sculptures, photographs. But it is interesting to note that very rarely does this artwork depict a woman truly on the cusp of birth. I would say that months four, maybe five, are the months that are deemed art-worthy. Month nine is large, comical. People who haven't been around pregnant women lately will exclaim "I've never seen a pregnant woman that big!" (and by this I mean my dad). And strangers will ask if it's twins. But no, the truth is, that's just what a really pregnant woman looks like. She looks imposing, clumsy, slow.

And this is just where we find ourselves in the Advent season. Mary is pregnant, very pregnant. All of humanity is pregnant in expectation, hope, uncertainty. The birth is coming. The surges have started softening the cervix. There may be moments that it feels like this is it, this is the birth. And then the moment passes, sleep eases the feeling, and it's back to just being unseemingly pregnant.

And pregnant with what? A child-- an unexpected child. A child that we feel has hope, that we just know has some sort of special purpose. The Son of God? He remains cloaked in the darkness of the womb. It is an uncertain time, a time of longing to see the outcome, to be able to see this child when he is crawling, see him when he is talking, imagine what he will become. Even to see his groggy eyes gaze up into ours when still covered in amniotic fluid.

But for now, we remain pregnant. Large. Uncomfortable. Uncertain, curious. And longing.