Epiphany: (1) : a usually sudden manifestation or perception of the essential nature or meaning of something (2) : an intuitive grasp of reality through something (as an event) usually simple and striking (3) : an illuminating discovery, realization, or disclosure. (Miriam Webster Dictionary)

Today I slept in (9:45 am!) read the Enquirer, answered e-mails, read a chapter of Crones Don’t Whine: Concentrated Wisdom for Juicy Women (the pages within every bit as intriguing as the title!), prayed, journaled, started the laundry, and finally got dressed at 2 pm. Then I went to the library, went shopping at Chico’s with the gift card my mother gave me for my birthday (back in October!), and finally met my husband at Bravo’s for happy hour. The two of us sat, over wine and appetizers, and dreamed about what we’d like to do in the new year: buy a small sailboat and go for sunset sails on the small lake up the road from our new home, be more intentional about our health by eating better and exercising more, continue with the healing ministry at our church and with Bridge for Peace, write fiction (me) work less (my husband), and simply to take time to enjoy life more.

After the rush of the holidays, it was a royal treat of a day!

Afterwards, waiting at the stoplight at the interchange of I-75 and Union Centre Boulevard, looking out over the valley containing three huge transformer towers, a Marriott Hotel, Bob Evans, Shell gas station, and numerous other eateries, I noticed that, at 5:45 pm, it was not quite dark. The horizon glowed shell-pink, and the sky above, deep turquoise. Nine days after the shortest day of the year, and the days are noticeably longer!

Wendell Berry’s quote popped into my mind: “It gets darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.”

Jesus is born, and his light overcomes the darkness. No sooner did that thought pass through my mind than a flock of geese formed, broke apart, and reformed in the middle distance, against the brilliant jewel of a sky. Canada geese, nothing special anymore, a year-round nuisance, really; and yet, as they stitched up the distant sky, forming and reforming patterns of flight over all the man-made signs and lights, over the cars lining up at rush hour, over the roaring expressway, my heart soared.

“It gets darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.”

Suddenly I knew, without a doubt, that I need days like today—lazy days with nothing important to do or think or say or write—days to simply sit and be—in order to open my eyes to the important messages of God.

What kind of messages?

That after Christmas, days lengthen; mere minutes per day, granted, but noticeable if I open my eyes.

That at sunset, geese stitch together the holes man has made in the landscape with ugly towers, billboards, polluting cars and fluorescent lights.

That there are more important things in life than productivity and performance; that I should never feel guilty for taking a day off to do absolutely nothing of “importance.”

That sharing dreams with my husband over a glass of wine trumps any monetary or public success.

That the light of Christ overcomes all darkness.

“It gets darker and darker, and then Jesus is born.”

Happy New Year!