When I was a little girl, the closet in my bedroom had a back door. You pushed through clothes, unlatched a hook, and behind the door was a dark tunnel: a slanted crawl space that ran the length of the house.
In an Episcopal Mission Church in the mountains, Father Joe staunchly said: not one bit of Christmas until the Christ Child is placed in the manger.
There were exactly two snowballs in my south Louisiana childhood, and they didn’t fall from the sky in Baton Rouge. They rode down from Ohio on the side of our neighbor’s station wagon, and took their shape when she scooped them and gave them to wide-eyed children who had never seen snow.
Mary does not have a gender-reveal party with a surprise color of cake–teenage pregnancy has always been hard–but she does seem to have a wise friend, and having a wise friend seems to make all the difference. I’ve been thinking about wise friends lately.
Zechariah knew what his son was destined to do: inaugurate the movement that would prepare the way for Jesus Christ.
Today we celebrate the Feast of the Visitation, when Mary goes to visit her older cousin, Elizabeth after accepting the call to carry and give birth to Jesus. Just why do we celebrate this event? Where’s our place in the story? Let’s find it.
Today we celebrate the feast of St. John the Baptist. If there is one thing he preached and practiced, it was the grace of God — which has practical consequences for us.