Today is Epiphany, the twelfth night of the Christmas feasts that used to be. Such formalized celebration, at least for an extended period of time, is (sadly) no more – but it does provide me with an excuse to post some of my after-Christmas thoughts that were supposed to be posted last week, but were lost in the shuffle.
The week before Christmas, I routinely woke up earlier than I usually do when I’m on the East Coast, because I was on the West Coast, and I took in the pleasant morning noises of home – human and dog feet on wood floors, coffee being ground. I often snuggled down for a quick doze before actually getting up, just because I could. I would wake again to hear Mom admonishing the dog, who waited with almost religious fervor outside my door, wanting so badly to come inside. (Over Thanksgiving, he actually managed to open my door once. He’s a talented dog.) When I finally decided to rise and open my door, I would find Jesse, all dog-smiles, tail thumping the floor like a mad drummer, lying in gentle wait. When he got up to get out of my way, I could feel the warmth he had made on the wood floor. Some mornings, I bet he’d laid there for almost an hour.
Then I would get to see my parents. My first interaction of the morning was hugs. (I think the whole world would be happier if that was the case for everyone, every day.) If I was up early enough to catch Dad a substantial time before work, I would get to hear him read the morning’s Psalms and Proverb. There would be coffee, amazing oatmeal (not the oxymoron you might think), and the warmth of a robe against the morning’s chill. (Yes, it was cold for southern California this Christmas – many mornings didn’t make it out of the 50s). And I took in the loveliness of my home at Christmastime, the soft lights and music and handmade decorations, and, of course, the tree, which I was home in time to help decorate this year. I’m convinced that is a direct result of many of your prayers, and I am grateful. Those mornings, simple and spectacular, were streams of water that restored my soul.
The best present I received this year was the gift of presence – the company of people I love, who love me and make no demands on me. Another year celebrating Immanuel's arrival in the home I treasure. It was perfect as anything this side of Heaven can be.
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