Historical setting: 561 C.E. Gaul
Thank you God for giggles of children, for beauty shining through old pox. Thank you God, for riches of life and for family to share in all of this. Amen.
Echoing through imagination is the dark tune of the Jesus birth with all its angels, the bold star and the glare of glory and here below I know the rarely spoken verses are hovering in the story too of royal jealousy sending soldiers pounding on doors, bringing the world back from hope’s magic into normal and believable fears.
Today the task is to empty the caldron of feasting and return it to its usefulness for the stirring of remedies. Yet the church, that everlasting body of Christ, will name the new season Epiphany for the Creative Ah-ha.
These frail tentacles deep in the earth that root the predictable plantings of traditions drink from the subterranean silence, the ever-flow of God’s grace tickling root, sprouting up a new thing growing here, and maybe an idea over there. The herb garden is a plethora of whims. Everywhere there is a mingling of creative variety: some for healing, but also some for savoring, some for fragrance and some just for beauty. The spirit of the thing is in the cacophony – the chaos.
In the dark, into the new light rising we will fill again, this caldron.
Eve will stir in recipes of traditions for healings: earth things of plants and animals caught in a moment between life and death. The pre-determined ingredients for rescue in this healing brew are purposed with easing mortal hurts and ailments, stretching the physical being of a human sort around snatching more time for earthly continuance. That is what healing is, is it not?
I know healing well. I live in the unique promise of always healing to earthy life, over and over again. If I am to consider this a blessing and not a curse the choice for life I must make is not for healing but for the creative power, the driving inspiration, the ah-ha of love. Without the creative source I would live into a surplus of years simply by clinging to the promise of oldness. But brewing a kettle of beauty, fragrance, relentless love, life is driven by the always new, the Spiritual image of Creator of life.
In the beginning is the Ah-ha. Thank you God. Amen.
(The story continues Tuesday, December 31 – Come again.)