Things got a little messy at my place ahead of the storm.
I was planning to wait until at least the Feast of the Epiphany before “going dark” this year – taking down and putting away our modest display of outdoor Christmas lights.
But that plan got scrambled by a big winter storm which – as predicted – has arrived right on the Feast of the Epiphany. My Sweetie pointed out (on Friday afternoon) how cold and nasty the project would become if I waited until after snow and ice arrived, and I found myself persuaded by her wisdom – even though that meant shifting into warp speed.
What I had envisioned as a nice, orderly process – unfolding over the next week or two – became instead a rather slap-dash affair: a race against the setting sun and the looming storm.
I managed to get ‘er done, alright. But there were consequences to my change of plans, manifested by the tangle of wires and bulbs that then disrupted the erstwhile tranquility of our living room.
As it happens, that localized mess was just the storm’s gambit. Since the decorative entanglement appeared beneath my feet, all kinds of other schedule changes and cancellations have ensued. The anticipated “order” of my coming days and week has pretty much disappeared. It’s become apparent that many more variances lie just ahead.
And my challenge, I’m coming to appreciate, is to try to take it all in like a Wise Man.
How can this storm be seen not fundamentally as an annoyance, but as a gift? What possibilities does it present to me? What invitations, perhaps, to depart for my intended destination by another way?
The gifts offered to the Christ-child by the Magi were curious ones indeed: gold, frankincense and myrrh. And maybe the gift they’re offering me on this snowy hunkered-down Sunday is a bit under-appreciated as well: It’s starting to feel something like freedom from entangled thinking. A chance to let loose my illusions of control.
Let us pause now…to recall that we are in the presence of the Holy & Merciful One.
IHS
With Us Still 
I went the opposite direction – the lights against the snow remind me of my childhood in Buffalo, so I’m leaving them up extra long this year! Thanks for the reflection, John, and a blessed New Year to you and yours!
That’s probably a better approach, Jeff. Next year, I’ll remember to use The Buffalo Method !
Your offspring one generation removed would’ve been happy to help you.
You should have thought to enlist their services.
I took my lighting down on January 2 before the weather turned cold. Merely a light jacket was all I needed.
Talk about “entanglement”: trying to get the next generation to help would be a process all by itself!
Not just taking down but untangling…a chore indeed! Time for thought.
Happy New Year!