Advent, Advent, a surfer runs.

It was a beautiful time on the island of eternal spring: we spent 3 weeks together with a friendly family in Tenerife. An island that many of you have already visited and told us about. This place is now filled with our own memories. With 4 adults and 5 small, blond-haired children, we had many impressive experiences there (and as much giggling and crying as there is room for in 24 hours with children). Pink flowers and cactus gardens, splashing in the water, rocky beaches in the evening sun, lots of impressive stones.

All of this felt like a great vacation and didn't fit the date at all. Because it's actually December and therefore high season for fir branches, mulled wine, and stress. Advent.

Advent has very different meanings for many people. For some, it's a compulsory program in the year that needs to be checked off. It's about traditions, decorations, and shopping. Others hate this time, maybe some of these people demonstratively fly to Tenerife, for example. And still others try to incorporate the theological significance in the church year - waiting for the arrival of the Savior - into this month internally. We actually belong to the latter. And yet we have now realized: It's not that easy.

Because it's actually nonsense to talk about contemplation and quiet thoughts during this time. We would need that to think about things like the Savior and such old stories. But those who leave their house, have children, and/or are involved somewhere, realize: Advent is pure stress. And even some good deeds or great actions, every beautiful tradition can sweep away any thought of more. It doesn't have to, but it can.

And that's why it was a little liberating to be in such a different place. Namely among palm trees, with lots of ocean waves in our ears. Apart from children's stuff, the time in Tenerife was surprisingly quiet. No thoughts about Christmas presents, no hectic appointments. The four of us adults took the opportunity to escape the Christmas circus for a year and we used it.

Of course, it's then nonsense to escape to a Catholic country. Although we are off the coast of Africa, Tenerife feels more like Spain (oh, could be because of the nationality). And that's why there are also Christmas trees and crowded city centers on the third Advent and anyway.

But as outsiders, we can skillfully ignore all that. We stroll on the beach and suck on ice cream as if there were only our vacation calendar. And that's what both families planned: to fly back to Germany after our time together and into the Christmas hustle and bustle. To be able to enjoy the holiday with family. Just without Advent - because we spent that in flip-flops and with paella.

Then a guilty conscience plagued me: the children would be incredibly happy if they could experience a bit of the anticipation of Christmas. And so I initiated that Santa Claus also visited Tenerife and left something in the boots - in our case, in the sandals - according to German customs.

In addition, we improvised an advent calendar from a Tenerife map and cut out small doors with nail scissors, which presented each child with a new, hand-drawn animal every day. The advent calendar would probably never have won a beauty contest, but the children loved it and were excited to open a door every morning.

So there it was - an advent far from Christmas consumption and cookies. It was simply a wonderful time with a lot of closeness. So many big and small people together, so many conversations and thoughts. And I realize what I have missed in the Advent hustle and bustle in my life so far, without knowing it. This closeness. The thought that God has gone to great lengths to get close to us. That he is not a distant judge and not a mysterious energy. But that he has revealed himself in the way that we can best approach him - as a human being. And where I was previously ashamed that I didn't light a candle every day and would actually like to make even more gifts, now joy is spreading in me. Because I have felt closeness and I am grateful that God is close to me - despite me and everything else.

I wish you a Merry Christmas. Joy in the traditions, in all the things that make these festive days. But also the desire for the time without. For closeness and other surprising discoveries.