Silas told me this morning "it is Christmas!" and bounded down the hallway.
"No, buddy, not anymore," but I was wrong. I am wrong.
Today is Epiphany, the feast day where we celebrate the visit from the Magi, the journey-ers from the east, star-led and mystic. so I wonder if my urge to write is wrapped around the urge to mark my journey.
I married a Baptist man, and while I don't regret that at all, the church calendar baffles him. "Ash Wednesday is tomorrow," I may comment and he'll respond, "what is that all about again?"
Epiphany celebrates the three wise men's visit to Jesus, the gold silver frankensince gifts fit for a king--the acknowledgement that this stable baby was The One. Some denominations celebrate Jesus's baptism today as well.
It is a day to remember what Christmas points to--where we've come from, where we're going.
When it comes to resolutions, I fall in the camp of publicy scoffing all while privately making. If I'm going to fail, I want to do so in private. If I'm going to eat a carb, I'm going to do so over the sink at 11:30 at night. If I'm going to write a letter a week, I'm going to buy some great stamps and...save them for later. I prefer working out in a group and then not really talking to anyone.
To be a resolution person, you have to have resolve. I'm a little more happenstance in my living, and as I look at the table where I'm typing, it shows. To my right: a candle (unlit), a Patagonia catalogue, a plumber's bill, an empty bowl and spoon, keys, a child's fork, a pen, a (thankfully unused) diaper, and a glass of water about an inch from empty.
That's just on the right side.
But if Ephipany is a time to figure out where I am on this journey, to pause and feel where my feet and head and heart are planted...then here's where I am.
The Internet leaves me wanting thiings, does it do this to you? I see such lovely things, read such inspiring words, watch such ridiculous 90s music videos...but when I look up, I am dissatisfied. I sit at a mess, in the midst of mess, but here sits Jesus too.
He can either be a baby in a nameless town, just a child growing to be a man who will say some nice things and do some strange things, or he can become more to me. I can bow my head and look inward and hear and learn to know Him and look up and out at this mess and not feel dissatisfied but gratitude instead. To let the scales fall from my eyes and see this world as broken and needy but as his Kingdom too.
Each year seems to begin the same for me. So quiet and hushed and maybe even a little let down. The weather most times also subdued and dismal. We swing from pies and cakes in glorious excess to meager handfuls of leafy greens. We're empty and punished and say "this year we'll be better."
I'm right there with you, though I'll admittedly pssh at your diet (sorry about that, my mishmash way of living wishes I could follow through with your same confidence), I'm eating raw almond butter and an apple instead of the baguette and jam I long to eat.
My epiphany is to look around more, look less at the screen and more at faces, to look for Him and with thanksgiving, find Joy. Last year my word of the year (because that's A Thing you know, having a word of the year) was "enjoy." This year, it's not an action, or a plea, or a chastisement. It's a name. His name.
My journey is starward, hushed and longing. Happy Epiphany all. Wherever you are, look up and out and see.