"Most highly favoured lady, gloria!"

But the angel said to her, 'Mary, do not be afraid; you have won God's favour.

Look! You are to conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you must name him Jesus.

I was not planning on becoming pregnant, though I also didn't try and stop it happening. I was not a Christian at that point- my thoughts were somewhere between agnostic and atheist. I was a 16 year old girl doing what some 16 year olds do. When the test was positive it was a surprise. I doubt it was as surprising as the angel visiting Mary though, telling her that she was to become pregnant with God's son, by way of the Holy Spirit.

Advent to me is about waiting and preparation, and there is no wait greater than that of being pregnant. There is much to prepare, ensuring that everything is ready for the arrival of the baby. The mother's body changes as the baby grows, and this comes with a mental change in preparation for an upcoming role. Mary was disturbed at first by the news that she was to carry the son of God, but with time came to accept it, and was able to celebrate this with her cousin Elizabeth. I also accepted the pregnancy after a few weeks, and this made it easier to deal with everything that had to be done.

I was at college towards the end of my pregnancy, and had to stop going at the beginning of December because I was too tired to continue to travel there, and to climb the stairs to the classroom. Mary however had no choice in having to travel at a late stage of her pregnancy, due to Joseph needing to go to Bethlehem for the Roman census. It is uncomfortable just walking when heavily pregnant- it must have been difficult to travel on a donkey across large areas of desert, not knowing exactly what to expect when you get there.

Of course, things were to get worse- once they arrived in Bethlehem there was nowhere for them to stay except in a stable with the animals. In this environment Mary gave birth- not exactly the sterile surroundings I was in at hospital. Labour is exhausting, and to have to undergo this in unfamiliar, undesirable surroundings is probably not what she wanted. However, she knew that this was what was intended for her and she accepted it all with faith. Laying her son in the manger, knowing who he was to be, she was probably the proudest of all proud mothers.

The homecoming

Long have I waited for your coming home,
and living deeply our new life.

Tonight my church (St Wilfrid's, Preston) held a special service of reconciliation to mark the beginning of Advent. There was singing; a reflection on the blessings brought by forgiveness, read by one of the priests; and silent prayer before Jesus, truly present for us on the altar in the humble guise of bread. Throughout the evening there was the chance to go to Confession.

Confession is practised by Christians in the Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox tradition. Sometimes it confuses Christians from other churches, who mistakenly think that Catholics are trusting in a priest to forgive their sins rather than God. In reality, God is the one granting the forgiveness. He is the author; the priest is just the pen. God understands human needs very well - that same desire for tangible reassurance, for His self given in nourishing bread, for His forgiveness spoken in a human voice, is answered in the Incarnation. But there are times when I don't want to face up to those needs, and tonight was one of them.

I've been doing something wrong over the past couple of months. Repeatedly. And I'd been trying - and almost succeeding - to persuade myself that it wasn't bad. It didn't feel like a sin, and I couldn't understand the rationale behind its prohibition. But secretly I knew very well that sins don't cause pain and difficulty immediately. If they didn't provide enjoyment at the time, who would bother with them? It's even easier to go against your conscience and your better nature when the sin's filthy core is fleshed out with fruit that looks ripe, rich, good. In spite of this deeper knowledge, I couldn't feel sorry. I went on trying to excuse myself.

But out of respect for my religious tradition and trust in my God, which I've never quite managed to suffocate, I prayed to want to repent. Sometimes that's as close as I can get to actual contrition. I asked Jesus to take this prayer and to do what He could with it. As a result, I found myself walking into the side-chapel this evening and making my confession.

The quiet and gentle old priest said nothing about the content of my confession, even though it's a custom to give advice. For my penance, he asked me to pray for all the people who were attending the Advent service. And that was when the feeling of liberation and sheer joy hit me like a lightning bolt, transfixing me, rooting me to the floor. Repentence, I saw, means returning to your rightful place in a community - your family, your college, your workplace, your church, the Kingdom of Heaven itself. Only it's impossible to savour the joy of homecoming when you're still standing outside the gate. The youngest son in Jesus' parable, returning home to his father's farm after squandering all the money, had a dreary and fearful expectation: he would be fed, lodged, and put to work as a servant. Instead, the father ran out to welcome him when he was still a long way off, ordered a banquet to be served, and celebrated the return of his son with feasting and dancing. This is what God is to us. We take one step towards Him, and He runs to us.

But sometimes it feels so much easier and less nerve-wracking to remain on the outside looking in - even though in our heart of hearts we want to push open the gate and be able to say, "I'm home."

The priest giving the sermon tonight said, "Forgiveness is peace. Forgiveness is gratitude. Forgiveness is generosity. Forgiveness is love." This characterises the nature of the homecoming. Peace is God's first gift, and it inspires gratitude in us. This gives birth to the kind of generosity that wants to reach out to everyone and include them all in our new life, which is perfect love.

Long have I waited for your coming home,
and living deeply our new life.