Somehow, like a miracle of new birth, the children rise with all the energy of Christmas morning. I lag behind their delight, lost still in the sleep I wish I was having, yet lifted all the same to see child hearts leaping like an infant in the expectant womb. The waiting will be what chafes. Our spirits lag with Spirit's time. Even by breakfast joy dwindles with toddler temper and we all must learn in these waiting weeks to turn our squabbling selves to your slow Advent.