Waiting is not something we humans do well. Or, perhaps, maybe it's something technology-age humans don't master naturally.
We have no reason to wait, not with so many gadgets at our fingertips.
We text. We tweet. We e-mail.
When you get down to it, we could occupy our entire waking lives with constant movement.
I'm as bad as the next person, changing lines at the checkout counter like an open-field runner. I can't bear just standing there, any more than I can sit on the freeway. When traffic stalls to a stop, I'll get off an exit or two early, just to keep my tires moving.
Which is why the Christmas season can be jarring. The spiritual aspect is about preparing for the coming of the Lord, much as Mary had to do when she became aware that she was the mother of the Christ Child.
We try to cultivate an attitude of waiting through Advent festivals, lighting one candle each Sunday on the way to Christmas Day and, well, plopping one candy at a time out of a chocolate-filled Advent calendar.
Even Christmas' secular observation is about preparing for the day to arrive. We mark the wait with a countdown of shopping days.
I love that part of the secular part of the season. Even when we are rushed, finding the right gift for someone is part of the walk-up to the big moment.
I've given up worrying about the secular part of Christmas preparation outweighing its spiritual processional. Christmas, after all, has its roots in a pagan holiday. And the devout early colonists banned its observation.
There's something liberating about that knowledge. Unlike Easter, this isn't a holiday for which there is only a religious meaning.
Still, there is preparation for those who find redemption through the story that starts in a manger and ends on a cross.
I admire Buddhists who can adhere to long periods of meditation and others who practice contemplative forms of worship or observation. They possess a spiritual discipline that I lack.
Those of us who struggle with waiting have to pick our moments. It's hard to contemplate this season when your list still needs checking off, you've got end-of-year work deadlines, or you just prefer staying in motion.
If we're lucky, the moments grab us.
Watching my young son kick a soccer ball in an empty park last weekend filled me with the quiet of the season. Listening to an unemployed worker describe to a radio audience his journey from Georgia to Tennessee to Vermont to find work, without luck, conjured up the pain of the season, the one that separates haves from have-nots, that distances those with a place at the inn from those with beds in a manger.
Several years ago, I wrote another piece about preparing to receive. And I tried to keep those words ringing in my ears as the Big Day neared.
I don't know why it doesn't come more naturally because, without fail, there is a blessing at the end, one usually too profound to express. Instead, it comes out in the form of teary eyes as "Silent Night" is sung once more on Christmas Eve, the church quiet, family and friends standing shoulder to shoulder and candlelight flickering.
Then, the experiences of this Christmas season and all those of years past culminate in the arrival of the gift of peace. The gift that is worth the wait.
William McKenzie is an editorial columnist for The Dallas Morning News.
