|Msgr. Peter Conley|
Dinner time came and his father wasn't home yet. The family waited half an hour. They waited an hour. No one voiced what they were thinking.
Peter worried that something had happened to his father. After a couple of hours, he told his mother that he was going to wait at the bus stop. His mother didn't stop him. So Peter bundled up to walk in the snow and trudged out. He walked up the side street. He walked up the main street, crossed the railroad tracks, climbed the little hill, and stood at the bridge.
There were two busses his father could take. One would stop at the bridge, and then cross over the bridge. The other would stop at the bridge, and continue on straight. Peter waited. He saw bus headlights down the road. He waited. He watched the bus slowly, ever so slowly make its way to the bridge. One person got off.
Peter held his breath. He couldn't make out the face. But the person that got off the bus was a man. Then the man pulled down his hat, and Peter recognized his father's mannerisms and let out a sigh of relief.
That's waiting. Advent is waiting for Christ to come.