Good Consolation!

I am always saddened by the speedy passing of the Christmas holidays. The three weeks or so of goodwill towards men, obedient children, festive parties, generous hearts and smiling faces are too soon replaced by muffin top and January slush. Ugh, do I hate January.

However, on the morning of the 26th, I always remind myself that Christmas lasts until the Epiphany, and we need not return to our pre-Christmas dour nor remove our beloved Christmas accoutrement (including but not limited to the Rudolph nose on your Subaru) until...drumroll please...January 6!

From Wikipedia:

The observance had its origins in the Eastern Christian Churches and was a general celebration of the manifestation of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. It included the commemoration of his birth; the visit of the Magi^{[note 1]} to Bethlehem; all of Jesus' childhood events, up to and including his baptism in the Jordan by John the Baptist; and even the miracle at the wedding at Cana in Galilee.^[12] It seems fairly clear that the Baptism was the primary event being commemorated.^[13][14]

The earliest reference to Epiphany as a Christian feast was in A.D. 361, by Ammianus Marcellinus^[17] St. Epiphanius says that January 6 is hemera genethlion toutestin epiphanion (Christ's "Birthday; that is, His Epiphany").^[18] He also asserts that the Miracle at Cana occurred on the same calendar day.^[19]Christians fixed the date of the feast on January 6 quite early in their history. Ancient liturgies noted Illuminatio, Manifestatio, Declaratio (Illumination, Manifestation, Declaration); cf. Matthew 3:13–17; Luke 3:22; and John 2:1–11; where the Baptism and the Marriage at Cana were dwelt upon. Western Christians have traditionally emphasized the "Revelation to the Gentiles" mentioned in Luke, where the term Gentile means all non-Jewish peoples. The Biblical Magi, who represented the non-Jewish peoples of the world, paid homage to the infant Jesus in stark contrast to Herod the Great (King of Judea), who sought to kill him.^[15] In this event, Christian writers also inferred a revelation to the Children of Israel. Saint John Chrysostom identified the significance of the meeting between the Magi and Herod's court: "The star had been hidden from them so that, on finding themselves without their guide, they would have no alternative but to consult the Jews. In this way the birth of Jesus would be made known to all."^[16]

In 385, the pilgrim Egeria (also known as Silvia) described a celebration in Jerusalem and Bethlehem, which she called "Epiphany" (epiphania) that commemorated the Nativity of Christ.^[20] Even at this early date, there was an octave associated with the feast.

In a sermon delivered on 25 December 380, St. Gregory of Nazianzus referred to the day as ta theophania ("the Theophany", an alternative name for Epiphany), saying expressly that it is a day commemorating he hagia tou Christou gennesis ("the holy nativity of Christ") and told his listeners that they would soon be celebrating the baptism of Christ.^[21] Then, on January 6 and 7, he preached two more sermons,^[22] wherein he declared that the celebration of the birth of Christ and the visitation of the Magi had already taken place, and that they would now commemorate his Baptism.^[23] At this time, celebration of the two events was beginning to be observed on separate occasions, at least in Cappadocia.

Saint John Cassian says that even in his time (beginning of the 5th century), the Egyptian monasteries celebrated the Nativity and Baptism together on January 6.^[24] TheArmenian Apostolic Church continues to celebrate January 6 as the only commemoration of the Nativity.

A Good Read for A Confused Woman Like Me...

By virtue of being a health care referral haven (or so I hope!) for children with severe mental illness, I think I have more than the average amount of personal experience interacting with children with extreme behavioral problems. I love this tremendously challenging part of my job; I am forever striving to care kindly and humanely for all children, even those with little or no ability to cooperate for even a seemingly simple toothbrushing.  Every day I come to my job hoping to be gentler, smarter and more efficient than the day before. They do call it practice, as Jeremy often says after a bumpy day.

When a tremendously difficult child comes to see me for dental work, I almost always end the appointment with a silent prayer for their families...something like this always works:

Our father,

Who art in heaven,

Hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,

Thy will be done,

On earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread,

And forgive us our trespasses,

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

And lead us not into temptation,

But deliver us from evil.

Amen.

Dear Heavenly Father please bless this child and his family as they go about their day today. Please give them comfort and rest as they face the challenges ahead of them. In Jesus' name I pray.

I have the easy job -- my work is generally done within minutes -- but so many families spend day after day struggling with their child's mental disability. And to this there is no respite--often problems only multiply as children become adults. These families need our prayers, support and kindness alone...their job is far difficult enough without our added unsolicited advice. Think of this the next time you outwardly or inwardly judge a parent with a disobedient child at the store.

I have thought and cried and prayed about the recent tragedy in Connecticut. I have tried to ignore the news and the constant onslaught of invasive media coverage of a suffering community and the families it houses. I have kept my mouth shut when it has come to any arguments about gun control and the like, partly out of good common sensitivity owed to those impacted most by this tragedy, but also because I wasn't quite sure how to express how I felt.

What really is the problem here? 

Then, despite my efforts to ignore the news, the facebook feed, the photos, the print media, I fortunately stumbled upon this article. Its truly insightful read. Click now, you won't regret it.

Do I still feel saddened and scared for our world? Yes. But being able to define how you feel about an event that may spark the grand controversy for our time is surely a good thing.

And now I pray again for all people affected by the mental illness of a loved one or a total stranger.

St. Nicholas Comes to 7074 Bluffpoint

This is a horrible picture.

I really, REALLY need to take some type of entry level photography class. All I want for Christmas is to know how to take pictures in low light...sigh.

At any rate, it seems St. Nicholas filled our stockings once again. From left to right, or descending order, whichever tickles your fancy:

Mommy received heather gray leggings, nail polish and dark chocolate.

James received a new "big boy" outfit and socks (since he got moved up at daycare and per his father "The babies in the new room are wearing real clothes--not sleepers--and WALKING! He's not ready for that!"), some bath toys and the classic ring stacker that even I remember from childhood.

Peanut received two containers of wet dog food, which will surely give her the squirts. She should have gotten a lump of coal because she has been full of accidents lately just with her typical kibble.

Daddy received OSU jogging pants, pistachios, Nutella and some Christmas candy.

We are happy happy happy to see Old St. Nick.

When we were kids, we would often leave our Christmas lists in our stockings and St. Nick would deliver them safely to Santa. My mother handmade her daughters' stockings. Like, by hand. My older sister Kelly's pictured a snowman, replete with snowflake sequins and metallic thread piping the picture outlines.  Kristin's depicted an ELABORATE Christmas scene--children witnessing Santa scooting down a banister into the living room. All in hand sewn cross stitch. Beautiful french knots on the girl child's night cap. (To this day Mom does all the french knots in older sister Kelly's cross stitch. Kelly's work is pretty good, too.) Regarding Kristin's stocking, I think the story goes that mom began sewing this stocking when Kelly was born, but it was so elaborate that she didn't finish it until Kristin...nine years later. It really is a work of art.

My stocking was simple in comparison. A large cross stitch Santa waving as he sunk into a chimney.
So simple, in fact, that my first grade year I was pretty sad of its lack of bling. Some things never change.

However, that year, St. Nick left a nice note in my stocking his special night, letting me know that he would be sure to deliver my list safely to Santa, who in fact, loved my stocking the best of all.