ORDINARY TIMES
By Lucia A. Silecchia
If there is ever a time when the difference in perspective between children and adults is stunningly clear, it is during the four weeks of Advent.
As Advent begins, children will say, with a sigh of impatience, “Four whole weeks to Christmas.” My younger self did too.

Adults, looking at the exact same calendar, are more likely to say, with a much deeper sigh, “Only four weeks to Christmas.” My older self does too.
Through the eyes of a child, the days of December drag on, with a slow march toward the glory of Christmas – a march filled with excitement and joyful expectation. Through the eyes of adults, however, Christmas arrives in a flash and flurry of activity, and the fleeting days of Advent can go unnoticed because they pass so quickly.
Cynics will say that the excited joy of children comes more from the coming of Santa than of Savior. Maybe that is true. Indeed, my younger self would acknowledge mixed motives.
Yet, there is more. There is something to be learned from the joyful, unencumbered anticipation that children have as they wait, wonder and hope.
They seem, simply, to be more ready than adults. Certainly, some of that is because life’s responsibilities have not yet taken a toll. They have less to do to prepare for Christmas in a season when much adult labor is spent preparing Christmas celebrations for them. They seem less distracted and freer to anticipate all that is to come.
A child counts the days. A child notices when decorations first come out. A child notices when a crèche goes up and rejoices when the figures in the nativity scene move closer to the manger. A child notices when the Jesse trees in their churches start to fill up. A child counts the number of candles that are lit on the Advent wreath – not with fear that the number of days to Christmas is dwindling but with anticipation that what is to come is closer. With special joy, a child notices that on Gaudete Sunday the rose candles offer hope that the wait is almost over.
A child anticipating Christmas seems to understand, more than I do, what it means to wait. Yes, they enjoy the festivities leading up to Christmas. But they also have a single-minded focus on Christmas itself. To adults, so often, it can seem as though Advent is a season of events that can exhaust us before Christmas arrives, leaving us with the feeling that Christmas is over before the Christmas season has even begun.
A child longing for Christmas will never say, as I do, that last Christmas seems like it was yesterday. A child is unlikely to wonder how the year went by so fast because, in the temporal economy of childhood, time moves more slowly, and last Christmas seems like an eternity ago. Perhaps that is why each Christmas seems so special.
The children in my life teach me much about what it means to wait with joy and wait with readiness. They are not distracted by all that they think needs to be done before Christmas. Instead, they are ready to welcome the birthday of Christ with simple joy, uncomplicated excitement and the knowledge that something special and awesome – in all senses of that word – is about to happen.
I cherish the events leading up to Christmas. The traditions, celebrations, time with loved ones and special occasions fill my calendar and my heart. Yes, they also keep me busy.
But this season, I hope to wait for Christmas a little bit more like my younger sisters and brothers in faith. I hope that the distractions and busyness of December do not make my heart hope that Christmas can wait until I am ready for it.
My ancestors in faith spent millennia eagerly awaiting the birth of Christ. The ancients who came before me, and the young who come after me, did not and do not spend their days hoping for delay and more time until that silent, holy night. They want no unnecessary distance between themselves and the night that brings the “thrill of hope” when “a weary world rejoices.” They know how to anticipate that extraordinary time.

(Lucia A. Silecchia is Professor of Law at the Catholic University of America’s Columbus School of Law. Email her at silecchia@cua.edu.)