The last day of Christmas, epiphany. The day that the Kings come, always late. The children place their shoes outside the night before, filled with hay for the camels. The next morning under the blue lights, squeals fill the dark as candy and gifts were discovered.
The last day, feels like all the others with the doctor after doctor after doctor and call after call after call. The chaos that swirls from a serious car accident threatens to envelop anyone around.
We played a game around the table the other night, putting words to the week since our world splintered with the crash of metal against metal. The words were vivid, hard to hold. “The wrong kind of excitement, underwater, no, chaos, numb, Submerged, intense.”
How do we begin to frame this, this ending of advent? Perhaps that is not the question. Advent ended in chaos, not the twinkling of lights. The crazy run for the border from a family desperate to save their child. That doesn’t sound so different than the stories of so many families that we love. We don’t find out anything about what happened in Egypt. Maybe they lived on the fringes, perhaps they stayed under the radar. That’s not the story that is told.
Maybe Jesus understands chaos, when I have to call a friend to peel me off the ceiling. I wonder if he is present when the friend of a friend stops to get laundry, or someone tells the children they can order anything they want at any restaurant and it will come to their door. Maybe he is present as we sit helpless, Unable to navigate the system. When Dr. after Dr. brings more questions than answers, steeped in fear and risk and danger. Is he present there as well? Does he remember the sense of danger as his parents ran, the adrenaline that’s around him and imprinted on his Cellular memory? Is he as we begin to seek out those with gifts of healing and intuition, who remember the way the body is designed to work? Eucharisteo. Presence.