I have read dozens of descriptions of this moment of totality. None captures the awe I felt when I saw our star occluded, a disc surrounded by an eerie luminescence. It was white – bluish white – purplish, bluish white – a unnatural, unearthly color – and dumbfounding, breath stopping.
…the resounding echo of the music of the heavens lingered in my ear as it never had to me before, a low susurration resident in the beautiful stillness of the amethyst light that lay over us like a mantle.
We’re doers and helpers and pastors. It comes naturally to us. It’s easy. It’s what we do. What’s not easy is being on the receiving end of such gifts. What’s not easy is simply receiving.
Jesus and his disciples are once again continuing on their journey.
I wonder what might be unleashed if we unraveled the stories that are based on lies and instead wove stories of truth, accepting each strand, every color and hue. What power might be unleashed in the world, our church, in our lives?
if we are fortunate enough to be healed enough to see, we will be surprised to discover what the things we never saw look like. We might see we got some of it smashingly wrong; at the very least, we might discover what we never even knew existed.
Before us is an individual. In humility we must let them tell us who they are, what is important to them, and, finally, what they need.
The first Person to speak in our shared scriptures, appropriately, is God. “Let there be light,” God said, in the first chapter of Genesis. And
As I’m anticipating the birth of this child, I’m giving thanks for the moments in each day to be present. To be fully present to my body. To give myself permission to rest and to let the dishes pile up and the dust accumulate.
Instead of seeking justice in the world around her, Mary proclaims this beautiful song of God’s justice within her.