Wreaths hang off the outdoor lamps as bookends to the garage doors. Pulled to the side by the wind, their backs face each other. Every time I back out, onto the driveway, it makes me laugh. And then I forget about their peculiarity after I pull back in. So they stay there in a stance of refusal. And perhaps, that is why I don’t fix them. They mimic my mood.
I’m having a hard time coming up with words while my thoughts spew like an open fire hydrant on a hot day. My replies to your comments are slow. And it’s nothing personal. It’s just that the wind of Christmas has inhaled a bit too long. I’m waiting for the exhale to push me into the New Year with veracity as the candle of Christmas wanes in my soul.
As we prepare for Epiphany this Sunday, I’m thinking about how the Magi saw the star, left familiarity and comfort to follow the Light, knowing it would lead them to the place of fulfillment. And I’m asking Him what I need to surrender in order to harness the future. Even if it feels uncomfortable.
Because everywhere I look, I can’t help but notice it, the way the Light hovers in halleluiahs. And my ability to capture it and present it to the world seems an insignificant shadow of the brilliance I behold.
May we all declare “Christus Mansionem Benedicat” over the lintel of our doorways on Epiphany – “Christ, bless this home” as we stand embraced on the door mat of hope.
For more reading about Epiphany and settling into the New Year, these posts blessed me this week, perhaps they will bless you too:
When You’re Not Sure What to Do Next by Holley Gerth