I once worked as a cameraman at a TV station. Each day, I would truck the camera from the weather set to the news desk, then wait for a signal to cue the news announcer.
           On this particular day, Julie Jones—not her real name—is seated sideways at the desk, conferring with the weatherman.
           “Six seconds,” intones the control room engineer through my headset.
           “Standby!”
           I raise my arm and point to the ceiling, ready to cue Julie the second we go on air.
           The commercial break nears its end, but Julie and the weatherman remain in conversation. The engineer grows nervous.
           “Is she ready?”
           I cover my mic. “Julie, you ready?”
           “I’m not ready.”
           I glance at the monitor. We’ve run out of commercials and are now on black. The engineer is frantic. “Do something!”
           I step from behind the camera. "Julie, you ready?"
           "I'm not ready!”
           The weatherman shrugs and steps away. Julie shuffles her notes and turns toward the camera.
           “Cue her!” 
           I point.
           She looks up. We’re back on air. But she’s not happy.
           "I said, I’m not ready yet!”
           The monitor goes back to black. This means that viewers at home, watching a blank screen, see a person pop up, snarl like a cat, then vanish again in a flash.
           Meanwhile, back in the studio, Julie takes a deep breath. She straightens the cuffs of her sweater, stares up at camera, then gives a slight nod. I cue her again.
           “Good afternoon.”
            A radiant smile fills her face. Her voice rings sweet as music.
            “This is Julie Jones with your noonday report."
           Behind the camera, I’m double over, trying hard to keep my laughter from going on air.                  Each Advent, I recall this long-ago incident. John the Baptist might cry, “Prepare the way!,” but  Julie’s protest, “I’m not ready!,” sets the tone for the season.
           Everywhere, jangled nerves rattle beneath the sound of Jingle Bells. Privately, sometimes publicly, frowns and smirks contort our faces.
           Yet, when the commercials run their course and we manage to look up and give the Holy Spirit a nod, those scowls melt like snow on a salted road and tense words give way to tinsel on a tree.
           That’s when we know we’re ready. We’re finally ready.
           Cue Christmas!