Just after my mother died eleven years ago, my family and I were invited to Holy Cross Roman Catholic Church for a memorial mass in my mother’s memory. We aren’t Catholic, but some of my mom’s friends had sponsored Mass’ for her during her time with breast cancer.

The pain was still raw. Mom died on the Saturday before Christ the King Sunday – so it was in the Season of Advent that the Patersons, Sullivans, Youngs, Ruths, Turcottes, and the rest pulled into the parking lot of Holy Cross.

I grew up knowing about Holy Cross Church – but had never been inside of it – being a “good protestant boy”. I went to their Youth Group and everyone knew Father Lynette, he was the unofficial community chaplain.

So, at about 4:45pm, we opened the doors of our car and unbuckled our then little girls out of their car seats, and Emma (our oldest) took one look at the dusking December sky and said “Daddy, the sky is the same colour as the candles at church” (in the Advent Wreath). And she was right.

We trudged through the Mass – many, but not all, of my family are church goers – and quite a few of them are of the Irish Catholic variety – and poor Father Lynette was stuck with the Genealogy from the Gospel of St. Matthew as the reading for the day.

I don’t remember much from that service – only the colour of blue – Mary’s colour, the blue of the Advent Wreath Candles, the vestments, and that home-town sky.

I still wait for that colour every Advent – knowing that He is coming soon – and like a son, wrapped up in his mother’s arms, surrounded by her blue robes – so shall we, as we are born again, and again.

“A woman when she is in travail hath sorrow, because her hour is come; but as soon as she is delivered of the child, she remembereth no more the anguish, for joy that a man is born into the world.”
John 16:21 KJV

If you missed an entry in our Advent devotions series, please click here to see all previously posted devotions.