I’m married to a delightfully agnostic man named Greg. I love that he doesn’t carry any Catholic baggage and he considers a snowboarding trip as sacred as any Mass I’ve ever been to. And living and loving with him serves me regular reminders of how imbedded my own Catholicism is.
So. We are re-settling into live in Washington State after three months in Argentina (ahora, yo hablo espanol!). Not long ago, we took a trip to Ikea to get desks and a dish rack and some rugs. Near the checkout, Greg noticed these Advent Calendars and convinced me we needed one to add some homey touches to our rather sparse apartment.
It’s one of those kitsch-oriented calendars that aren’t so much religious as all about the daily does of chocolate.
Seriously. What is the deal with these calendars?
I grew up with a nice little Advent calendar that had passages from Luke and John written behind the tabs we opened each day. And there were drawings of angels and mangers and Mary. It taught me about waiting and anticipation (well, in part because my sister and I used to fight over whose turn it was to open the tab). I learned how to be patient and think about hope in Christmas.
These chocolate calendars have none of that.
Greg keeps asking me about Advent and what this calendar says about Advent.
All I’ve got is: Well, honey, Advent has reached the commercial zone.