Years ago a yoga instructor told me: "If you don't have time for God, then you don't have time."  At that moment I was probably standing on one foot or maybe my head - I can't remember, but I've recalled her pithy advice ever since. The class was small and she was making that mistake, one I've made before, of complaining about the people who don't show up to the people who do show up. By referencing God, she was speaking metaphorically about yoga, making the connection that if you don't make time for important stuff like yoga, or God, then you have misplaced priorities, that you don't even know what time is.

This yogi's message comes to me often, but especially during this Season of Joy.  It's the time of Advent, a time of preparing for Christmas. At St. James, my Catholic church, I'm instructed to hold off on the decorations, the music, the gifts, in order to create a sense of anticipation, to heighten the experience of Christmas day. Throughout our busy lives and especially at this time of year, it takes real discipline to make time for joy, rather than getting caught up in a whole lot of busy-ness.

Even after making time for joy, it's tough to feel that "kid on Christmas day" kind of joy.  We're bombarded with information.  We know what's going on in the world.  There's all kinds of bad crap happening all over the place. For anyone who has the slightest sense of irony, it's hard to greet the Christmas trees, and holiday parties without ambivalence.  For me personally, I pretty much want to throttle any adult whose view of the holiday season is less than complicated.  Please keep the Disney version of the season for those who are not tall enough to ride this ride.

So how do I, someone who is incredibly blessed, and also busy and aware, find the Joy in this season? I'm not sure, but I'm seeking an answer by making time and refining my search.

If I've learned anything over the last year, it's about being honest with my time commitments. For a few years my volunteer efforts were all over the place, but lately I'm focusing in on just a few objectives and making strides with those. But they all involve big time commitments and I only have so much time.  The more time I spend on this laundry list of structured activities, the less time I have for Joy. I haven't achieved that "oneness" where the volunteer work I do is a source of joy for me, although I have my moments.  At this time of year, I want to put the phone down, bail out of the meetings, and just revel in the season. It's like what that yogi said, if you don't have time for God (or yoga or joy), you don't have time.

This might all be easier if I knew what joy was.  I've never been a happy-go-lucky sort.  I'm much more comfortable analyzing joy than experiencing it. Father Ryan explained it all last Sunday in his Homily  but of course I can't repeat it with his eloquence. According to Father Ryan joy has something to do with knowing that God loves us and that He has promised to take care of us.  God's promise is our source of joy.  This might seem simplistic if it weren't for the massive complexity of our world.  I've sought joy in all of the usual places and found it in some: the good meal, the surprise puppy, the renewed friendship. Joy is all of those things, but it's something more.  Something that requires time and grace.

Growing up my first best friend was named Joy.  Joy's sister was named Felicity.  Perhaps these names were nothing more than hippy parenting, or maybe God was trying to tell me something.  Maybe God was telling me to walk with Joy and Felicity throughout life, and not just on my way to elementary school. 

So this Advent season, this season of waiting, I'm making time.  I'm holding Christmas at bay. I'm making arrangements to go to church more often, only seeing the friends I want to see, not letting myself use the word "stress."  This Advent season I'm taking it as slow as my ambitious heart will allow. I'm clearing the table to make way for Christmas goose. I'm not sure I would know Joy if She showed up on Christmas day in a tutu and spanked me on the bottom. But if She's anything like my childhood friend I wouldn't put it past her.