Friends on Twelfth Night

“O star of wonder, star of light, star with royal beauty bright,
westward leading, still proceeding, guide us to thy perfect light.”

The Twelve Days of Christmas are officially over today.  While I always feel a little sad about ending the season, I have had so many wonderful celebrations and illuminated moments this year! Besides seeing “The Nutcracker,” “A Christmas Carol,” and three magical Christmas concerts, I had fabulous family celebrations, Christmas teas with friends, and adventures looking at lights. Then, to mark the end of the Christmas season, a group of faith-filled friends gathered  last evening to celebrate Twelfth Night and the Epiphany, sometimes referred to as “Little Christmas.”

Seventeen of us gathered at a cozy home, still beautifully decorated and lit for Christmas with a magnificent tree, creche, and evergreen boughs.  We intentionally entered into a familiar final Christmas celebration focused on the story of three “kings” who make a long journey, following a star. We proclaimed readings from the Gospel of Matthew, T.S.Eliot’s “The Journey of the Magi” and Jan Richardson’s “Wise Women Also Came.” Then we held a special ritual for Epiphany written by my dear friend, Tessa Bielecki from her book SEASON OF GLAD SONGS: A CHRISTMAS ANTHOLOGY. 

We sang “We Three Kings,” meditated on the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh, blessed chalk and then wrote the initials of the three Magi (Caspar, Melchoir, Balthazar) along with the date: C+20+M+B25, over the front door to light the way of pilgrims and seekers.  Afterward, we feasted on delicious appetizers, sweets, and a traditional spicy Kings’ Cake with hidden surprises. As conversations and laughter flowed, I felt surreally caught up in the light of the “star of wonder” by this mystical circle of friends who miraculously decorate my life every day.  

I have said this before, but no one on the planet is luckier than me to have such richness. I say “luckier” rather than “blessed” because I believe God blesses everyone equally. Some of us, in rare moments of transcendence, realize this. No explanations can be given. It is simply pure luck (some call it grace), a free gift, to have such loving friends, rituals, precious moments of togetherness, when all troubles and suffering are put aside and we bask in the glory of a starry night. The only response is gratitude, big gratitude, in my case.

“Friends are the best presents,” is a phrase embroidered on a little Christmas pillow given to me many years ago. May we never take that for granted.

Spiritual Direction on the Eleventh Day of Christmas

Choose a word to carry with you in the coming year

Carry it in your pocket

Put it on the screensaver of your cellphone

That ever-present electronic memory bank in your hand

Or another place you can see it often

An in-your-face reminder

Of your soul’s deepest yearning

Have a good think about your life

What word echoes back at you in the wee hours?

Some quality or characteristic you wish you had?

Need to remember?

  • Peace
  • Surrender
  • Serenity
  • Faith
  • Hope
  • Love
  • Courage
  • Tenacity
  • Balance
  • Generosity
  • Kindness
  • Fierceness

Make your own list

Discernment is a vintage spiritual word

A practice really

Part of the Ignatian Exercises

Along with the Examen

If you don’t know how

Maybe you need a guide

That’s when spiritual direction becomes important.

That is if you know what spiritual direction is

Most think it’s something a priest does

Like confession maybe

Or counseling

But they are wrong

Spiritual direction is companionship

With someone trained to notice glimmers of light

In the darkness and fountains in the desert

Someone who will hold the tension with you

Remind you to have a mellow heart

Ease up on yourself

Hold you to a higher standard

Someone who loves you

With God-like Agape

Who hangs on your every word as though

You are the most important and interesting person

Whoever lived

Someone of deep faith

Pledged to be of service to others

First and foremost

  • Seek
  • Find
  • Become
  • Doubt
  • Stalwart
  • Curious
  • Content

Make your own list for 2025

Then relax

Enjoy

Embrace this fleeting moment

Books on the Tenth Day of Christmas

“I wish I had a river I could skate away on; I wish I had a river so long it would teach my feet to fly. . .I wish I had a river I could skate away on. . .” from “River” by Joni Mitchell

No secret: I am a bibliophile. Libraries and bookstores rank high on my list of favorite places. Lately, one of my most pleasurable activities is scouring the bookshelves of Friends of the Library and local thrift stores. Today, on the tenth day of Christmas, I made a little excursion to offset the “after Christmas” doldrums.  The treasured volumes I find delight and astound me! I love rescuing favorites so I can gift them to friends and family.  I only buy the books I have already read and know are worth the time and effort. The best part, these precious tomes are a bargain—each a dollar or two at the most.

I have skated away on a river of books ever since I learned to read for pleasure. Novels, nonfiction, classic literature, children’s books—well, I love them all. My children and grandchildren are well aware of this facet of my personhood. One of their Christmas gifts every year is a book I think they need to read. I resist the urge to question them later. My hope is that they keep the books and someday, when ready, will read them.

In our technologically-oriented culture, people today do not read much for escape and pleasure any more. That does not settle well in my soul. According to a recent YouGov survey, around 54% of Americans reported reading at least one book in 2023, with a significant portion (46%) stating they did not read any books in the past year; this data suggests a decline in overall reading habits compared to previous years. I find this shocking, especially with anxiety and depression on the rise. We all need a reading river to skate away on sometimes!

 Unfortunately, that river is most often social media, texting, or internet cyberspace environments that do not transport to a land of enchantment and beauty. My youngest daughter is a high school English teacher, and we have many conversations about how to nurture the next generation of readers. Her students read all the time on their phones but not the literature she assigns so she often reads with her students in class to pique their interest in the stories. I think this is a good strategy—sort of like reading with children at bedtime, evoking a sense of intimacy and enjoyment.  Admittedly, this does not work all the time. Mysteriously, many people do not find reading for pleasure a priority and sadly, there are no quick fixes.

Meanwhile, I will continue my crusade to help others find this enriching and free pathway. While challenging, perhaps we elders should share our wisdom (without judgment) and teach our young ones how to skate.

May you feel the glorious freedom flowing from the river of books right at your fingertips.

Wonder on the Ninth Day of Christmas

“I wonder as I wander out under the sky why Jesus our Savior has come for to die for poor orn’ry people like you and like I; I wonder as I wander out under the sky.”    John Jacob Niles

The Appalachian folksong, “I Wonder as I Wander,” has enchanted me since I was a young teenager. A Dominican sister who taught English once sang it at our high school assembly before Christmas break. Sr. Caitlin was a witty, wise-cracking young woman, full of mirth and practical jokes. When she stepped up to the microphone, no one expected the emotional rendition that emanated from her powerful voice and beautiful soul. She forever changed my perception of wonder that day.

I generally do not make resolutions for the new year anymore. In the olden days, I would take my three daughters to the beach and we would each write a list of prayer requests rather than resolutions.  I would tuck the list into my bible until the following New Year’s Day. We were always filled with wonder when we opened the list again to see the soccer wins, aced tests, resolved squabbles with friends, and miraculous healings of sick dogs and cats. Amazingly, many prayers were answered, and it was a good lesson about trust in the abundance of grace.

Although we no longer participate in this exact ritual, (they are all mothers with children of their own) I still ruminate with wonder over the events of the past twelve months. This is easy because each year, I keep a daily planning calendar of events, comments on books I have read, quotes from friends, quirky words I have learned, and random thoughts about life. Scribbling down a few ideas each day anchors time and creates a treasure chest of subjects to write more about in my journal or blog. Besides filling me with wonder (as in awe), these events also make me ponder so many unanswered questions.

I wonder why some prayers get answered while others remain suspended. I wonder why human beings are so cruel to one another; why we do not share resources so everyone can have good food and clean water. I wonder why we want to fight over images of God, about who is and who is not in heaven; why we quibble about doctrines and words to creeds. I wonder why we allow ideologies and politics to rob us of our joy. The list goes on.

But then I also wonder over the beauty of nature, the perfection of a child’s face, the random acts of kindness that spill out of ordinary circumstances. I am awed when I think of the loving and supportive family and friends who have graced my life for decades; of the deep faith that sustained me in many dark nights and still strengthens my convictions.  I am amazed that I have lived twenty-five years into the new millennium and can still feel transformed by so many wonderful things.

May your year be filled with awe and may you bask in the wonder of it all!

Soul Collage on the Seventh and Eighth Days of Christmas

For over a decade, every December 31st morning, I have entered into a reflective prayer process called “Soul Collage.” For several hours, sometimes alone and sometimes with a group, I sit down with print images that I have collected and create an icon of my inner state. This year, two days are devoted to this creative endeavor. Engrossing and contemplative, the process taps my right brain to record and chronicle the soul’s quest for meaning.

I began making collages out of magazine photos when I was very young, and used the finished products as greeting cards, journal entries, and scrapbook pages. Resources were tight in those days and this was an inexpensive way to express myself. Many years later, after having completed the certification for the Art of Spiritual Direction, I was thoroughly delighted to meet Seena Frost, author of Soul Collage: Evolving an Intuitive Collage Process For Self-Discovery and Community, who introduced me to an expansive way to collage for spiritual growth. Since then, I have facilitated the creation of these unique soul expressions on retreats and small group gatherings. The group process doubles the pleasure and galvanizes the creative process, especially on New Year’s Eve, a perfect time to reflect.

This year, the subject of my soul collages is “The Mystic’s Journey” because I am presently guiding a study group on mystical theology. It is a work in progress as I play with the many photos collected over the past few months. Look carefully–there are over twenty images incorporated into these collages and I am not yet finished. More ideas are rising to the surface by the minute and I am riding on the wings of the Spirit into this new year!

I wish you every happiness! May your souls soar into 2025 with hope, resolve, and a tidal wave of love.

Heirlooms on the Sixth Day of Christmas

“All that I come from, all that I live for, and all that I’m going to be, My precious family/Savior/Jesus is more than an heirloom to me.”(“Heirlooms” by Amy Grant)

“Your house is like a museum,” remark folks who first step over the threshold.  I never know how to take that statement these days when the minimalist movement reigns supreme. Usually, I just smile and usher people into my home, full to the brim with antiques, old photographs, books, and family heirlooms. Unabashedly sentimental, I am the keeper of family memories and ours is a house of carefully curated collections. Following Marie Condo’s advice, I only keep what I love, and I love a multitude of beautiful things, especially my Christmas heirlooms.

Each ornament has a story; the Nativity figures are the carriers of childhood memories, and each Christmas book unlocks new insights that echo across time with every reading. (A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, and The Birds Christmas Carol by Kate Douglas Wiggen, are two of my all-time favorites.)  My old Christmas teapot, cups and saucers, and dinnerware, some full of nicks and scratches, have graced decades of family and friends’ dinners.  I offer a Christmas blessing from my favorite poinsettia wine glasses, hand-painted by my daughter many years ago. All are sacramental to me, containers of food and drink that nourish the mind, body, and spirit.

Like the proverbial broken record, I remind my grandchildren that the stories behind the heirlooms are what matters. They bind us together in a faith that looks through the trappings of possessions, prestige, and power. This is not about material things at all, but about what they represent: a tradition focused on connections, deeper meanings, and the hidden inner light emanating from every corner of life.

I hope my grandchildren will want some of the heirlooms I have saved for them. However, what I hope the most is that they know their worth is far more precious to me than anything I own. Love is the only heirloom to pass on to future generations.

Music on the Fifth Day of Christmas

“For we need a little music, need a little laughter
Need a little singing ringing through the rafter
And we need a little snappy, happy ever after
We need a little Christmas now. . .” (from “Mame” by Jerry Herman)

The Christmas music that blasted from every store since before Thanksgiving has now ceased.  Corny and annoying as many carols are, I miss them. More accurately, I miss the anticipation and childlike wonder, the mood that these seasonal favorites provide when they suddenly disappear for a year. But then, I need a little music, not just at Christmas time, but every day.

Don’t get me wrong–attempts to be more comfortable with silence have been a constant preoccupation. However, after nearly forty years of sitting quietly in daily meditation, I must also turn on Mahler, Joni Mitchell, Native American flute music, or whatever matches my mood, to stir me into action each day. As I write this, I listen to KUSC, my favorite classical station for “Mozart in the Morning,” which provides a rich background for my daily tasks. Music takes me to an enchanted inner silence where I do not feel alone and distracts me from the worries that often plague me when the darkness of winter becomes too oppressive.

Having been silenced too many times for being a woman, small in stature with a curious mind, a gift for speaking up and singing spontaneously, I was often told (verbally and nonverbally) that I was too loud, too forceful, too intimidating. Frequently scolded to “tone it down,” when I was young, I learned to go silent when I wanted to yell out; to swallow anger, dismay, questions, and loud belly laughs that might disturb anyone. Many years of inner work helped to relinquish these engrained early messages. Empowered by music, I was lifted out of the old patterns of restraint and permitted to be myself. I have come to know music as the voice of God who repeats “I love you” in the notes, stanzas, crescendos, and lyrics of countless composers and musicians.

It is the end of December. The doldrums of the Christmas season have perhaps set in at your house. I feel it in the air. Many people want to move on and be done with all the false merriment. Resist the urge. Put on some music you love today. Sit down, cover up with a blanket, and listen mindfully to one great piece or favorite album, a forever gift flowing over the soundwaves of time.

Hope on the Fourth Day of Christmas

“Let your heart be light. . .from now on our troubles will be out of sight. . .”

The Winter Solstice, the year’s darkest day, has now passed. Each day henceforth, the sunlight increases, which is precisely why celebrating the Incarnation on December 25th is so meaningful in the northern hemisphere. The Light of the World came to dispel the darkness forever.  Mirrored in the landscape of Earth and sky, hope shines most brightly during the Christmas Season.

In 1969, more than 475,000 U.S. military personnel were stationed in Vietnam. There were 11,780 American soldiers dead that year, and countless more Vietnamese. In June, I had just returned from doing a USO tour of the east-west Mediterranean, entertaining the troops stationed to protect our NATO allies, most having already served tours in Vietnam. I was deeply affected by the casualties of war, having seen the desperate look in the eyes of so many young men and women. That December, I was asked to sing a solo at a Christmas party for a large department store in my hometown. I chose to perform “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”(written by Hugh Martin) because I wanted to uplift the hearts of the families of active service and veterans who were hanging onto hope that “our troubles will be out of sight,” as this emotionally-packed song lyrics crescendo. I recall becoming choked up in the middle of singing as tears welled up in the eyes of many.  Afterward, I was reassured that the audience benefitted from feeling the emotions of communal hope.

Fifty years have passed since that experience, but the need for hope-filled moments has not. Throughout several more wars, a worldwide pandemic, and political unrest, hope has waxed and waned like the cycles of the moon. We feel this most acutely when pessimism creeps into our daily lives due to loss and sadness. Although some may be more resilient than others, no one escapes suffering regardless of how much money or successes are amassed. The cross comes to everyone, which is why the Incarnation and the Paschal Mystery remain so meaningful to Christians. Our God-made-flesh knows what it means to be human, has experienced both joy and sorrow, loss and gain. “Hope springs eternal,” a proverb I live by, remains written indelibly in the human heart.

On this fourth day of Christmas, may we allow the resilience of the human spirit to rise again. May hope warm and inspire us to embrace life in all its complexity!

Beauty on the Third Day of Christmas

“Sleighbells in the air; beauty everywhere. . . “

Today, when I took my morning stroll with my aging Golden Retriever, happily listening to Christmas carols, I passed by a couple in their front yard busily taking down their lights and decorations. “No, no, no!”  I wanted to yell out at them. Christmastime has only just begun! I resisted the urge and said nothing but quickly walked to the other side of the street.

Why are people so anxious to let go of the beauty of this season? My irritation was rising as well as my judgment. Maybe they are going on a trip and want this task done before they leave, suggested my better self. Still, a feeling of melancholy engulfed me. Then the song, “Christmas Time Is Here,” sung by Sarah McLachlan came up on my playlist. If you haven’t heard her version, I highly recommend it. It’s a moody song and hers is a very moody, jazzy version but it seemed to fit the circumstances.

As I rounded the corner and headed up my street’s steep hill, I came face-to-face with an enormous holly hedge, complete with crimson berries. I stood transfixed before it. I always forget that holly grows in California. Somehow, it seemed incongruous, as if snowflakes should be decorating its branches. Wait, were those sleighbells I just heard in my imagination? I felt my spirits rising like incense at this precious gift, a Christmas decoration that cannot be taken down at a whim. I said a prayer of thanks for this Christmasy testament, evergreen and stalwart, right on my street, all year long.

The song is right—”Christmas time is here. . .and beauty is everywhere.”

Calm and Bright on the Second Day of Christmas

“All is calm, all is bright. . .”

I love the Christmas carol “Silent Night.” Granted, I am more sentimental than most, but the words really get to me and tears often moisturize my dry skin when I hear “all is calm, all is bright” softly sung.  What would it be like to luxuriate in bright calmness all the time? Is that the meaning of “heaven” or “enlightenment”?

Lately, I have been guiding a study group on the theology of mysticism. The discussion of paradox has both enlightened and perplexed us. Mystics write about how darkness is full of bright light and the highest form of knowledge is “unknowing.” Death leads to new life, turmoil purgates and liberates, and renunciation of possessions equals untold spiritual wealth where all is calm, all is bright. Examples abound in the Scriptures of all world religions.

Perhaps this explains why the Nativity story captivates us. For centuries, folks from all cultures, ethnicities, economic and educational backgrounds, have gazed at manger scenes and pondered the mystery of a calm and bright night in a stable in Bethlehem. “The story never grows old,” wrote Carl Sandburg. Indeed.  When we get humble and childlike enough, we fall in love with the humility of our God who wanted to know firsthand what it was like to be human. “God is a foolish lover,” wrote one of the mystics.

Today, I begin a pilgrimage to visit Nativity scenes in nearby churches. My mother did this with us when we were kids. “Let’s pay a visit,” she suggested in the days after Christmas, as if we were dropping in for tea at my aunt’s house. Off we went into snowy afternoons whether we wanted to or not. I remember returning home feeling calmer and brighter. With “Silent Night”  playing through my Airpods while gazing at the Nativity scenes, I hope to sink into that wonderment again.