Are you ready?

I'm looking at daily readings--you may have heard a different story in church this morning, and that's OK, too. Plenty of stories to go 'round. Here's the list of readings for the first week of Advent, Year 1.

Matthew 25:1-13

Stay awake for you know neither the day nor the hour.

Late pregnancy felt like this. Like, no matter how hard you prepared, you couldn't tell if you were one of the wise or one of the foolish bridesmaids. The night before C was born, when my labor began, I certainly felt like one of the foolish bridesmaids who had gone out all night without lamp oil. It shouldn't have been a surprise--I had gone past my due date. At the appointment I had that morning, the doctor had strongly suggested an induction for the following day. I had been complaining for weeks that it was just time for that baby to come out, already. But that night, when my waters broke, all I could think was "Are we ready for this?" The bag is packed, we're ready to go, but did anyone remember to pack the lamp oil?

When three days later we brought our brand new baby home from the hospital, it became pretty clear that though we thought we were among the wise bridesmaids (After all, we read the books! We took the classes!), we were definitely short of lamp oil among other things. As prepared as we thought we were, the fact was that there was just no way we could prepare for all of the changes this new little life wrought. And, as she approaches the ripe old age of two, we're still pretty unprepared for some of the things she throws at us--which is always astounding because both my husband and I are perpetual overplanners.

I think of Jesus' parents with their new baby and wonder if they felt as woefully unprepared as I do. And I wonder if he amazed them as much as my daughter amazes me and I think that perhaps this unprepared-ness is just part of the game--part of the parental experience.

I also think of how many of us behave as church--as though we are obviously up there with the wise bridesmaids, flask of oil tucked securely in a pocket. And I wonder if we are as prepared as we think we are, or if we're more like an expectant, first-time mother. We think we're prepared, but really, we have no clue. Because any day, any hour, we could be called to task and find our flask empty or leaking in that safe pocket.

Does this mean that, since we're none of us prepared, we're all destined to be locked out in the cold, unrecognized by the Bridegroom? I don't think so. I think it's a reminder that we aren't as ready as we think we are. And what can we do to be ready? Is it enough to take a class? Read a book? Donate to the food pantry? Will that make us ready? Or is preparedness something...greater...deeper...constant. The one thing having a nearly-two-year-old has taught me is that I might not be prepared for everything she throws at me, but I have to be vigilant. Because I never know when she's going to try and turn on the stove or eat a pen or wrestle the cat. Just like I never know when the Bridegroom will come. So I need to try and be attentive. To remember my brothers and sisters in the greater community. To place the needs of others above myself. And in this way, I can stay mindful, present, and try to be as ready as I can...knowing that perhaps we will never be truly ready and we will always be surprised.