We're afraid that everyone will know we're an impostor, a fake and a weakling. But here's the thing: I am weak. And that's not something I need to be ashamed of. What is shameful is pretending I'm not.
For most of my life I paid little attention to Advent. I had vague childhood memories of singing melancholy hymns with minor chords. I occasionally lit candles around an Advent wreath. But one day, about 12 years ago, that changed.