The Advent Wreath.

A holiday symbol already rife with metaphor.

• Evergreen boughs = God’s ever-present love and care
• A circular shape = love unbound and never-ending
• Four candles representing the four Sundays – and weeks – leading up to Christ’s birth
• The flames of the candles representing the light that Christ brings into the world
• Three purple candles representing the majesty of the most high, our Lord
• One pink candle, for the second to last Sunday – Gaudete Sunday, meaning we’ve almost made it! Our savior is nearly here; the darkness is nearly over!

All amazing, meaningful symbolism.

And then I took my children to an Advent wreath making workshop – or forced, if you asked my teens.

I had the golden ring to use as a base; my husband had gathered the wire cutters, I’d grabbed my pruning shears; our church was supplying the greens – we were good to go!

The six year old was quickly out. She spied a friend from class and joined in on a raucous game of hide n’ seek.

The sixteen year old picked out a few shell decorations and then retreated to her phone.

The fourteen year old stuck with me, which was a bit of a surprise given some snide comments. But even as we stuck ourselves and fought over holding the ring, we began to form the green wreath.

Ironically, though I’d strong-armed everyone into attending the ‘family fun’ event, I had to turn off some of my independent tendencies. I love to create and often have an idea of the finished product in my head. When one kid threw seashells into the mix and another wanted to affix the greens her way, I found myself fighting. Fighting against my fleeting vision, against my tendency to control, against dreaded yet pined for perfection.

And whether it was the soft flame of Jesus kindling in my heart or mom muscles that slowly, still strengthen a bit at a time, I felt myself pull back. I felt the slow wash of knowing it was more important to be close to my prickly teen than push the prickly needles into submission. I appreciated seeing the two sisters working together to adhere the decorations they’d picked out to our wreath (especially when the shell-picker-outer put down her phone). It was fun seeing my husband and the girls untangle and trim floral wire.

In the darkest depths of teen snark is the young person who just wants to connect. In the asymmetrical and untamed shapes of nature comes order and beauty. In the confusion of sorting out the useful from wasteful comes clarity.

Every Advent – every day – I have to work at preparing myself to receive Jesus into my heart. This year, on its eve, I received an unexpected new metaphor in its most familiar symbol.