Can you believe it is finally here? After big Christmas season services, travel and travel recovery, return to work, and preparations for kids' back to school (tomorrow), I have to admit we are limping across the finish line.
At this point in the liturgical cycle, the wise men are almost there--they've almost made it. In my imagination, they have visited Herod's palace, and will soon be off to Bethlehem. Who knows how long they have traveled, or how far? Perhaps they, too, are limping across the finish line.
I find it easy to be self-critical about the manner or (lack of) order in domestic things. By this I mean that I am a little frustrated with myself that things are not yet restored to sense at home (ok, not even nearly), there is still a bit of laundry to do after our travels; the kids at least seem happy and well rested but Marc and I both are verging on crispy-fried in the shock of re-entry.
I share this only because I suspect others may feel this too, and I wonder if we are too hard on ourselves, especially in times of transition?
I imagine the wise men on their journey. They press on. They follow the star. They ask directions. They press on some more. Maybe some days they pressed on with some laundry not done. Maybe they fed their entourage crummy-seeming leftovers and maybe that nourished everyone well enough. Maybe it's good enough that they pressed on, and that they kept seeking the baby who was also God.
I pray that instead of measuring my life by my perceived shortcomings, I might instead see it as a process, and ask myself whether I am seeking God in the vulnerable of the world, whether I am pressing on, whether I am stopping long enough to look at the skies, and whether the thing that calls me down the road sounds, looks and smells like Love. If so, how can this be other than plenteous good?
In the words of Robert Bridges (1844-1930),