Advent is Coming! Will you be Joyful, Joyful . . . or Irritable, Irritable?

Our 7-year-old daughter Eavie began piano lessons in September and our home is now filled to the brim with music – complete with 3-year-old Roman’s accompaniment on his beloved plastic drum. If you’re craving peace and quiet, you will not find it at the Heffernan's.

Rather than sitting and practicing for a 20- or 30-minute stretch, Eavie plays in fits and starts. Five minutes here, ten minutes there, a few notes plunked every time she walks through the playroom, where the piano is nestled in a corner.

Recently, Eavie's teacher assigned a song that’s one of my all-time favorites. Beethoven’s Ode to Joy is a simple melody with lyrics some consider the most joyous ever written.

Many times, while Eavie's practicing, the noisy routines of life thrum alongside the music:

Joyful, joyful we adore thee.

“Roman, it’s time to get your coat on.”

God of glory, Lord of love.

“I don’t want a coat! It’s not cold outside!”

Hearts unfold like flowers before Thee.

“It’s 3 degrees. Get your coat on.”

Opening to the sun above.

“Honey, have you seen my keys? And wallet? And watch? And phone? ”

My challenge, of course, is trying to enjoy the music without allowing the questions and chaos to drown it out.

In a way, I can say the same about my journey through Advent – and maybe you can relate.

I grapple with Mother Teresa's question: "At this Christmas when Christ comes, will He find a warm heart?"

What I want is to have meaningful and memorable times with friends and family. What I don't want is to get caught up in the "noise." For me, this translates to expectations and obligations -- most of which I bring on myself.

Too often, this means my joyful, joyful attitude can become irritable, irritable as we move toward Christmas Day.

So with that, I’m approaching Advent a little differently this year.

Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away. Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.

I'm ignoring that niggling pressure to do, do, do and go, go, go. I'm committing to attend our church's mid-week Advent soup suppers and services. I'm starting and ending my day with a reading and a prayer.

And here's a big one: I'm giving up the thought that I need to make this time of year extra magical for my kids. Like so many others, I see the Pinterest posts, the beautifully decorated houses, the elaborate gifts -- and sometimes I wonder if I'm doing enough, giving enough, making our family's Advent special enough.

Yet already, we buy a tree (Menard's, here we come!) and tell stories about ornaments as we hang them. We drive through Menominee Park and look at the Christmas lights, then make hot chocolate. We gather with our church family for a candlelight service on Christmas Eve, then have a picnic dinner with Kevin before the later service.

And throughout, we celebrate the joy and hope that arrived as a squalling infant in a manger thousands of years ago.

This year, I'm going to remind myself again and again that it is enough. Because really, when it comes to Christ's birth, what could be more magical than that?