Friday, 6 January 2017

Blessings

This morning, I turn on the Christmas lights for the last time. I put the last of the Christmas cookies on my mom's star shaped cookie stand. I pour a coffee into my lovely new Christmas mug.  As I sit in the gentle glow of the old-school lights of our tree, I reflect on the season.

Today is Epiphany. In the Christian calendar, the day celebrates the arrival of the Magi and the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles. 

Today would also have been my Dad's 94th birthday. 

In our house, Epiphany marks the end of the Christmas season. 
My grandparent's Christmas table

I think back to the Christmases of my childhood, spent in my grandparents' house on their farm, a converted log cabin lovingly added to and renovated over the years. 

Christmas was waiting.

It was waiting for Christmas dinner. 

It was waiting for the huge table to be constructed by combining the ping-pong table and assorted other tables in the middle of the living room. It was waiting for it to be covered with white linen tablecloths, set with the best dishes. It was waiting for the silver to be polished. It was waiting for my grandfather to say grace before the 30-40 assembled relatives and neighbours began to feast. 


Me and my cousins
Christmas was the infamous little red kid's table in the other room. 


Beaverlodge
Christmas was waiting to open presents after the dishes and the tables were cleared away. 

Christmas was waiting to be old enough to read so you would have the honour of being allowed  distribute the gifts.

Later, Christmas was at my aunt's house in town, my aunt and cousins cooking and serving dinner. It was the living room floor awash in wrapping paper. Christmas was cousins, aunts, uncles-all laughing, children everywhere,

Still later, Christmas was my parents' big Tumbler Ridge house. 


In Tumbler Ridge
Christmas was waking up to see the delighted little faces peering over the balcony that overlooked the living room, basking in the glow of the tree lights. Christmas was hearing their whispers, "He came." 

It was waiting for my brother and sister to arrive so we could open our stockings. It was waiting for my mom to put the Christmas pudding on to steam and put the turkey in the over before we tackled the tree, so many presents it felt almost obscene.

Still later, the small Tumbler Ridge house and then my brother's Victoria house filled with siblings and parents and love.

And now, my parents gone, my siblings far away, my own kids make the journey back home. Now, just the five of us gathered round the tree. 

Our Christmas filled with ghosts of the past.

Epiphany is a time to bless the home to protect us from evil for the coming year. The blessing represents the hospitality offered to the wise men. It invites God's presence into the home for the coming year. 

We will pack away our Christmas tree and our Christmas dishes and our Christmas decorations. My kids will return to their homes. And we will wait for another Christmas. 

An epiphany can also be a feeling. A sudden and rare experience. An enlightening understanding that gives us a new perspective. My epiphany, despite the sadness I feel as I deeply miss those no longer with us, is my realization that these ghosts are not to be mourned. They have blessed us with their presence and their memories. No matter what the configuration of people attending our Christmas festivities, we are truly blessed by generations of love. May their blessings continue to shine over us.