An Advent reflection on memory, longing, and the quiet ways God gets our attention

The smell hit me before the cold air even settled behind me. Hickory smoke. Spice. A smell I hadn’t bumped into in years. It landed in my chest before I had time to think about it, and suddenly I wasn’t standing in a little country grocery store. I was eight years old again, listening for the garage door and trying to guess how close Dad was to walking inside.

Growing up, my dad worked at Johnsonville Sausage, and most evenings he brought a bit of the plant home with him. The house carried that faint smoky scent by the time he stepped through the door. It wasn’t strong and it wasn’t unpleasant. It was just Dad. It meant he was home.

So when that same scent rolled through that grocery store years later, it was like muscle memory. I was back in our kitchen, realizing I had a minute to pull out the plates before he walked in. The smell held comfort, but it also nudged something else. A readiness. The sense of getting things set for someone you love.

If you had asked me back then what Advent means or why the Church sets aside these few weeks of waiting, I wouldn’t have known how to explain it. But that smell knew something before I did. It held a kind of quiet Advent meaning long before I had any words for it.

When Memory Smells Like Love

Scent does something words can’t. It goes straight to the heart. It pulls up memories we didn’t know were still stored there. If someone asked you what Advent is or what Advent means, you could start here. Advent wakes up whatever tenderness has been dozing under the surface. It reminds us that Someone is coming, and something in us wants to be ready.

That moment in the grocery store stirred a mix of sweetness and conviction. I remembered the warmth of Dad walking through the door, but I also remembered the scramble. Wiping down the counter. Straightening the table. Not because we were scared. Because my Mom taught us to care about helping make our home a place that Dad wanted to come home to - a place we all felt comfortable in.  

Sometimes the smallest moments invite us to pay attention again.And that’s the heart of Advent. Advent isn’t about anxious preparation or spiritual pressure. It’s about opening the door of our hearts a little wider and making myself into a home that Jesus recognizes as his own. 

What Advent Really Means for the Heart

Every year, people search for the Advent meaning, hoping to understand what this season is really about. The answer isn’t complicated. Advent asks us to pay attention to our hearts. Not in a dramatic, overhaul-your-life way, but in small, honest ways that create space for grace.

It’s a season that teaches us how to get closer to God in the middle of ordinary life. How to notice Him showing up in corners we usually rush past. How to let ourselves long for someone we already love.  How to anticipate the coming of the One who already loves us. 

That smell of smoked meat in the store was a reminder for me that God uses the things already familiar to us. The things that feel like home.

What the World Notices When You’re Ready for Christ

St. Paul says we are the aroma of Christ. I’ve always loved that image because it’s so understated. You can’t force a scent. You can’t strategize it. It just lingers.  You can only notice it.

When you’re living in a posture of Advent readiness, people can feel the difference. They might not have language for it, but they sense steadiness, peace, hope. The kind that comes from more than temperament.

That’s evangelization at its simplest. Before the words. Beyond the explanations. It begins with the way we live, the way we notice God, the way our lives quietly carry His presence into the lives of those around us.

Of course, as Pope Paul VI reminds us, witness and proclamation belong together. A heart that has truly welcomed Christ eventually speaks of Him. Not out of pressure, but out of overflow.

Advent Is a Season for Readiness, Not Perfection

The Church hands us these few weeks every year to practice readiness. Not readiness as in “everything is squared away and my prayer life is tidy.” Readiness as in “my heart is cracked open enough to notice God and to receive whatever He wants to give.”

Sometimes that looks like a few minutes of Advent prayer before the house wakes up. Sometimes it looks like telling the truth in confession after a long stretch of avoidance. Sometimes it’s just sitting still long enough to notice the desire rising in you for a deeper relationship with God.

Finding God in the Ordinary

At Burning Hearts Disciples, we talk often about how God shows Himself in the ordinary. Not just in dramatic conversions or sweeping emotions, but in the regular rhythm of a life that’s paying attention.

A scent, a song, a memory that comes out of nowhere. A tug of longing you can’t quite name. These small things are often invitations. They draw us into encounter with God before we realize what’s happening.

Your Advent readiness grows every time you pause long enough to notice where He’s already moving.

Where are you noticing God this week?

 The Evangelizing Scent of Readiness

When we remember that God has come, is coming, and will come again, something in us shifts. We begin carrying His presence in ways we didn’t try to manufacture. Our peace becomes a refuge for others. Our hope becomes contagious. Our patience softens a room.

Advent trains us for this. It prepares us to hold space for Christ in a world that can’t always name its longing.

So as you light your candles this year, take a breath. Let whatever familiar scents rise up – pine, wax, cinnamon, even sausage if you’re lucky – and let them remind you to stay open.

Not perfect. Just open and ready.

Ready to notice Him in the ordinary.
Ready to welcome Him into what is still unfinished.
And maybe most of all, ready to carry His presence into places that ache for hope.

A Prayer of Readiness

Lord Jesus,
You are near.
In the quiet longing of my heart and the places where peace feels out of reach,
teach me to be ready for You.
Let my waiting become a witness and my longing become a prayer.
Open the doors in me that I keep closed.
Let those who meet me sense not me, but You.
Amen.

Reflect

• What ordinary smell or moment brings you back to a place of love?
• Where might God be nudging you to pay attention?
• How is He inviting you into deeper relationship this Advent?