A dear friend gave me the most exquisite William Morris Advent Calendar this year, filled with soaps and lotions and bath bombs – an absolute feast for the senses. It’s been a delightful distraction in this season of waiting and has me reflecting on the ability a beautiful fragrance has for completely altering my mood. I remember my mother’s life hack during the pandemic – treating herself to wonderful smelling hand soaps and turning the necessity for frequent hand washing into a meditative practice. I’m trying to do the same thing, creating my own ritual of time spent each day basking in the joy these little luxuries bring.

Advent hasn’t held much meaning for me in recent years, I think because I lost sight of what I’m waiting for. So, while I’m living in limbo, I’ve decided to make an art out of learning to wait.

My life is peppered with things I enjoy – but I’ve realized I don’t savor them the way I do these tiny vials of lotion. There’s work to be done there. Also, I have more time than I know what to do with some days, but right now I fill it with chores and screen time. I could be much more intentional about how and where I spend it. And on days when I struggle to find the gift, perhaps I can focus on producing things for other people to open – writing more letters, making more art, creating more blog posts.

This is aspirational thinking to be sure – approaching life like an Advent calendar, looking for the gift in every day and trusting something good lies behind each door. But there’s something to be learned here, so I might as well enjoy the wait.