I find this First Reading from Isaiah to contain so much of the hope and encouragement I long for, especially during Advent. We’re soothed with words like “comfort” and “tenderly.” We hear a vivid description of the path in front of the people of God, including us, and the way is made easy and smooth — no rugged land to traverse, no running up that road, running up that hill, running up that building. Just an easy, safe, tranquil stroll home from exile. We’re reassured that God is strong and powerful and coming to save God’s people, whom God will care for like a shepherd, even cradling small lambs in God’s own arms — a tender, comforting image.

Is this what comfort looks like to you? It does to me. It’s warm and loving. It’s close and intimate. It’s how children are cared for when they’re raised in safe environments with loving parents and caregivers. As adults, though, how often do we experience comfort like this? And, even though we’re grown, don’t we still need a little comfort too?

I do think every person of every age needs to be comforted, but we don’t always receive it. Even little children aren’t always raised with the care they need. I’m thinking of all the children in war-torn countries now. Even if their parents are doing their best to comfort them, their fear level must be so high. I also think of so many children raised in peaceful places who have parents who, for one reason or another, can’t give comfort, or simply don’t know how. I had a couple of friends in school who had such difficult family situations that they appeared to be raising their parents — taking responsibility for tasks at home, caring of younger siblings, fending for themselves. How do children who grow up this way ever feel comforted? And then what does that look like in adulthood?

I grew up at the tail end of the pre-helmet latch-key generation, the one where our parents would just send us off to play and we had to kind of work it out. I’ve heard my generation described as kind of feral, mostly by Millennials on TikTok. It’s exaggerated, but we were sometimes left unattended in the summer and after school, riding bikes without helmets, and our parents never really knew what we were up to. I don’t consider myself to be feral, and I wasn’t neglected by my parents, but my friends and I did look after ourselves a lot, and I know that I can still be pretty independent. While we might laugh about it in videos, I wonder — how do those of us who grew up fending for ourselves, and sometimes taking care of others, get the comfort we need?

I suspect it’s not just generational. There are lots of grown-ups running around caretaking, serving, tending to the needs of other people and not experiencing much comfort themselves. And yet, I think it’s a human need. How do we seek and find a little tenderness every now and then?

I don’t know. I probably don’t always get my need for comfort fulfilled, but I also think that’s because I don’t slow down very often to seek it out. I don’t mean to spiritualize this in a corny way, but I really do believe we can receive a good deal of comfort from God — if we’re open. Is it easy for me to be open? No. It can be hard to put down that wall of self-sufficiency to open to God, but if I’m intentional, I can do it. I spent a few days in retreat last week, and even that little bit of low key, prayerful time was a great comfort. The spiritual life doesn’t always have to be the mountaintop. Sometimes it can simply be about resting. When I’m rested, I’m more open to God. When I’m open like that, I can experience the tenderness of God. I feel all of the ways that God is caring for me. I can also look back and see all the ways God cared for me when I was too busy to notice. When I’m in that space, I can feel my whole self sort of unclench a bit. It’s comforting.

I can’t always take time away like that, but that’s not the only way to feel comforted. I think God also comforts us through each other. When community is at its best, it can do that. When someone is in a little more need, we give them the space to share about it, and we’re present. When another person goes through a hard time, we make space for them too. It’s mutual. It’s a give and take. It can also be more subtle, and sometimes people do kind things and don’t even realize the impact it has. The other day someone wrote me an encouraging email and made my day. Recently, a sister stopped me in the hall and randomly gave me a pep talk. Both of these seemed kind of out of the blue, and I didn’t go looking for them, but those small things meant so much to me. Random acts of comfort. And sometimes, sometimes, we also have to ask for what we need. I know — it’s hard. It makes me feel vulnerable and needy. However, loved ones can’t read minds, and it’s okay to ask for a little comfort when we need it.

It occurs to me that comfort doesn’t necessarily solve our problems. We can't comfort away grief or cheer someone up when they’re in crisis. However, it can make even the most excruciating problems seem more bearable. Recognizing that we’re not alone in our trauma and drama is immensely comforting. When I’ve been at my lowest, and even when I’ve been okay, being connected to another person makes me feel a little bit like I’m walking Isaiah’s smooth path through the wilderness. Or, even if way isn’t easy, and I’m still running up that hill, it seems more possible to keep going when it feels like there’s someone running with me.

One of the prayer practices I do during Advent is to listen to soothing music, even lullabies. I don’t know when this started or why exactly, but it’s so helpful to simply allow God to sing me into comfort. And not only do I listen to lullabies, but I also like to share them, so I’ll list share some of them below in case you find them comforting too. I also want to leave you, and me, with a prayer of hope that we all find a little comfort this Advent. The world can be such a harsh place to move through day by day. We do the best we can to navigate the valleys and hills, and I hope we know that God is deeply present with us all along the way, whether it’s smooth or rugged. And in God’s presence, and the care of each other, may we find the love and tenderness we need.

For reflection:

• Can you think of a time when you felt comforted by another person or by God? What did that feel like? What does comfort look like to you?

• How do you find comfort when you need it?

• Who in your life needs a little comfort right now? How do you respond to the call of Isaiah to “give comfort to God’s people?”

  Here’s a few lullabies, and I hope they help you to experience the tender love and comfort of God.

Lullaby for a Stormy Night by Vienna Teng https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bZd2kgLZtfA

Night Vision by Suzanne Vega https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wsso9MAHYoc

My Little One by Beautiful Chorus (and this is from a whole alum of lullabies) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wzwD409XalM

Darling by Beautiful Chorus https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kWKQ6LRncw0

Within Our Darkest Night (a kind of Taizé lullaby) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EqQsZK57OX8

This Is to Mother You by the late, great Sinéad O’Connor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OOb7d7q0inM

And by the way, we have a whole Advent playlist on Spotify. It has these songs, some transitional Advent songs, and some others too. Check it out here or below.

By Sister Leslie Keener, CDP

Sister Leslie Keener, CDP is the director of God Space, a community-building spirituality ministry in Cincinnati and Northern Kentucky. She’s a Sister of Divine Providence with a Masters in Ministry and a Certificate in Spiritual Direction and Retreats from Creighton University. She directs retreats, meets with people for spiritual direction, and serves as the vocation director for her community. She also serves on the Coordinating Council of Spiritual Directors International. She enjoys music, dancing, and meaningful conversations.