A Wonderful Advent Wreath Story

A Wonderful Advent Wreath Story

“What are you doing, great-grams?”

She looked at me over the tops of her glasses, the way she does when she's reading to me from the Bible to see if I'm paying attention. I really was interested, she could tell. I know because she took off her glasses, letting them hang by the silver beaded chain around her neck.

“I'm making the Advent wreath for the church.”

“What's the Advent? And why do they get a fancy wreath?” I reached for the purple ribbon with a finger. “Can I feel it?”

“Are your hands clean? Is your heart pure?”

I could feel my nose wrinkle. “I'll go wash. And say a prayer.”

Grams smiled, putting her glasses on again. “When you come back, I'll tell you the story of the Advent wreath.” Another glance over her glasses at me. “Don't cut your washing or your prayers short, or the story will be very short.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I ran off, not noticing her loving smile follow me. I was back with my face pink and a peaceful heart in almost no time. Grams did her sideways-look at me.

I could feel the blush make my freckles jump out. “I washed behind my ears, too!”

She nodded, tying the last bit of wire holding the evergreens to the small spoked wheel. “You know Christmas is coming?”

Nodding, I glanced at the Nativity set up on the corner table. “The birth of the Christ child.”

“Exactly. Well, in the old days....”

“When you were my age?”

“A bit before then, dear. Would you like to help?” She turned the wreath, checking the greens for gaps. “The Advent wreath is special to the church. There are a lot of symbols.” She touched the purple silk. “The purple ribbon is the old symbol of royalty. Christ was also known as “The Prince of Peace.”

She pointed, “These candles all have names. The first is the Prophet's candle. It means 'Hope' for the Coming.” She looked at me, “You understand about hope?”

“I hope so!” I said, handing her the candle.

“Hope is not about what will happen, it's about what may happen. You have to believe in order for hope to work.” She said. “It's not about what you want or need. It's the devout wish for something beyond your experience. Something greater than yourself.”

“Yes, ma'am.” I reached out and touched the second candle, the wax silky smooth. “This one is named?”

“The Bethlehem candle. For the town where Christ was born. It means 'Peace'.”

“And this one? It's not purple, it's pink!” I sniffed. “It smells good. Like roses.”

“That's because it's special. The Shepherds candle. It means 'Joy'. It goes here.” she pointed. “Can you guess the name of the last candle?”

“No....”

“It's called the Angel's candle.” We put in the Advent wreath together.

“I love you, Grams.”

“I know, dear. That's what this candle means. And the reason we remember the birth of Christ.”