friday five: a-ha!

At RevGals KathrynJ writes: 

In the midst of the holiday season I had one of those moments where a path suddenly was made clear - A-ha! This experience has prompted me to wonder what some of your A-ha moments may be.

They can be mundane - a realization that you like/don't like a certain food or that you really look good in that color you never had the guts to try. They can be sacred - a way to better pace your day clicks into place or finally a devotion or meditation practice that really works for you. They can be profound - the moment you realized he/she was the one (or wasn't)or the moment you realized where your deepest passion could meet the world's greatest need.

Please tell us - what are five (more or less) of your 'A-ha' moments. Where have you had a moment of clarity?

Oddly enough I actually had a significant "a-ha!" just before Christmas. I meant to post about it, but one interruption or another kept me from blogging for most of the holiday. As big of an a-ha as it was I was also struck with the obvious nature of it and did the "I could have had a V-8" smack on the forehead and promptly forgot about it. Until now!

I have struggled throughout my life (or at least dating back to the third grade when I was the only Brownie on stage that got overlooked during the "flying up" to Girl Scout status ceremony) with the experience of seeming invisible to others. In the case of the lone, unpromoted Brownie, that seemed to be a physical case of invisibility, but there are any number of times when I have raised a question, made a point, or offered an idea within a gathering, have it acknowledged, and then at the conclusion of the gathering have that very offering attributed to someone else who made no contribution whatsoever to the conversation in question. ???!! This is just one example of the invisibility cloak at work.

I have finally made the connection between the experience of invisibility and being an introvert.  For a long time I have valued the benefits of introversion and taken in stride that I simply lack extroverted tendencies. For the first time, however, seeing this connection has also made it painfully clear to me (literally) how introversion has been a very real deficit in a number of respects.  The a-ha has been bittersweet. It has made it possible to connect all sorts of dots, which has been a good thing. It has also caused an internal upheaval with the peace I had come to embrace about the limitations of introversion. If I want to alter my relational and social experiences that suffer from being an introvert, I will have to fight against the natural tendency of introversion.  Insert the sound of an anguished cry here. 

As a recent a-ha this whole matter needs considerably more reflection and processing, something that will be accomplished in true introvert fashion.  In the meantime a sort of resignation has settled over me that I am trying hard to resist. I take that as a good sign, in spite of the fact that this is all also very wearing. Other "I's" will understand. 

Other epiphanies? None really come to mind, but this one seems big enough to fill the bucket.  More positively, Epiphany is my favorite liturgical season with its emphasis on light and incarnation, so I rejoice in the internal infusion of both those divine entities that are ushered in on this holy day.

day of light

Twelve years ago I had the privilege of sharing leadership on a trip to Israel and Egypt. We were a small group of Episcopalians and Baptists, trekking to and through various holy sites identified with the life and ministry of Jesus. There are a host of highlights of that trip worthy of mention, but today I am remembering the fields of Bethlehem. On the edge of the modern city hailed as the birthplace of Christ, where shrines and iconic bling dominate the landscape you will find a monastery. It is an ancient place that emanates a kind of serenity lacking in most of the venerated sites associated with Jesus. Old stone walls and stubby trees frame the immediate boundary of the place, and beyond those edges an expanse of pasture and gentle hills extend for a distance.

Bethlehem fields. It is here that shepherds watched their flocks when the glory of the Lord appeared to them to announce the miracle that would shift the poles of the human heart. It is the place among all the places we visited that drew me into the depth of the Christian story and embraced me with its power. Here I could imagine the shepherds. Here I could listen for the baa's of the sheep and goats as they fed in the dark night on the hills. I could imagine the sounds of birth and the cry of a baby and, in time, the growing light that would fill the sky and lead humanity to the cradle of faith. This is the place where The Story resonates with me and becomes deep-in-my-bones real.

Today is the feast of the Epiphany. It is my favorite feast of the year, calling me to follow the transcendent light that holds me fast in its holy grip through the journey of my days. It is a day when divine simplicity shines through the web of theological complexity that marks the mystery of faith and infuses my soul with the joy of God's love. It is a day of triumph that heralds the ultimate triumph of resurrection. For all of its majesty it is day of silence and awe.

I doubt that silence will permeate my day, but I will do my best to keep the awe within my sights. I will light a candle, probably more than one, a reminder of the gift of light and love that translates as hope for me. More than anything else in these difficult days of our lives hope it what keeps me afloat. Today I will give thanks that faith guides my way like a polestar, close my eyes and imagine the fields of Bethlehem ablaze with light.