For the first time since my Italian, nominally Catholic childhood, I waited until today—the Epiphany—to take down the last bits of Christmas décor. The timing wasn’t due to procrastination, observation of tradition, or even the pleasure of twinkling white lights I enjoy so much. It was an outward manifestation of the inner revelation I’ve been soaking up for several weeks.
After a prolonged period of active seeking in all the usual ways, type A Isabella style, in late November, the Holy Spirit invited me to spend December simply marinating in Jesus. I was and remain, filled with an indescribable and still unrequited longing to draw away and be with Him. All my usual urgent doing just had to be set aside. Even now, it’s almost like I’m choiceless; the pull is that intense.
As I searched and prayed for words to explain to a dear friend my conspicuous, silent absence, so not like me, the Spirit revealed.
Even packing Christmas was a form of reverent meditation--careful, attentive, and way more present than my usual rushed efficiency. It’s been a pleasure I hope will never end, but for now, I’ll cherish the wonder today celebrates, Jesus Christ's physical manifestation to the Gentiles and the world.
I almost hesitated to post this as the words took shape in the wake of my fire and brimstoney Word earlier, but I suddenly saw it as the aptly timed epitome of epiphany. Kairos. The loving, longing, tender call of the bridegroom and the fierce and fiery holy wrath coexist in the person of Jesus Christ, unified by love for us.
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