Epiphany

EPIPHANY. 1capitalized : January 6 observed as a church festival in commemoration of the coming of the Magi as the first manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles or in the Eastern Church in commemoration of the baptism of Christ2: an appearance or manifestation especially of a divine being3 a (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 b: a revealing scene or moment
From Merriam Webster.com

This week we celebrated Epiphany in our church calendar. But this year, for me, it was more personal. I have been ready for an epiphany to call my own. I have been asking questions and feeling uncertain for a long time. It has been a painful, bumpy path, and yet one I was certain I was supposed to accomplish. For at least fifteen years, I have pursued a dream. And yet, in recent months, I have sensed a changing of the dream that I could not wrap myself around. And so, I have waited.

I have read and I have prayed and I have talked, but I have not heard any resonating Charlton Heston voice give me any direction. I have tried to be open. I have tried to listen.

I decided a few months back to set up a day in January for a personal retreat. I have done this in the past, about once a year, and honestly I have dreaded it every time. But this year, I felt growing enthusiasm for my day. I felt a desire to be away and be alone. I searched for simple ways to be with myself, and for simple places to go. I didn’t want to spend any substantial amount of money. I didn’t want to go far. I didn’t really want much input from others. I just wanted to enter the silence inside. I wanted to face my own giants.

I must tell you this day turned out to be lovely, but also exhausting. I felt deep gratitude for the time, but also felt a bit unraveled and grumpy at the end. It was a sign to me that I don’t take enough time for myself. Once a year is SO not enough to tend to one’s soul. And I didn’t receive too much encouragement for it – I got several snide remarks – but there were others who I knew were holding me in prayer and love. This knowing I took with me as I entered my sanctuary of self care.

I started the day by reading – feathering through texts that have been important to me in recent years. As I sat in Caribou Coffee sipping hot tea, I felt overwhelmed by some of the lines I had marked, important texts from Barbara Brown Taylor, Parker Palmer, Jan L. Richardson, SARK… even Oprah and Dr. Phil. And time and time again I was surprised to feel tears slipping down my face as realizations struck my soul. I felt as though the answers had been there all along. I had read them, marked them – but I had no time of them. Today was the day for epiphany, and I found I had prepped my own course. I became my own teacher.

After some time, I came home to gather some materials and I left for a walk. I took nothing with me, not a cell phone, not a set of keys, not my mp3 player. I took my soul and my prayers and I just tried to sort out the readings and the tugging on my heart.

I am fortunate to live close enough to my church that I often walk through its campus as part of my loop. I love to walk around the sidewalk and up to the front doors, and then sit outside and look out over a beautiful sprawling grassy hill. This is one of my favorite places to be. I sit at the top of the sloping lawn, and I watch the traffic down below. I watch the trees blow. I have been known to pick up acorns or watch ants. My soul longs to linger here, if only for a moment.

Today, as I approached the sidewalk around to the sanctuary, I felt a nudge to walk up the grassy hill instead. As I did, I looked up above the steeple and I saw that the gray Atlanta skies were clearing. Where there had been threatening clouds, there was now a brilliant blue sky with white puffs like dragon fire. I decided to walk just to the side, about half way up the lawn, where there is a “secret place” the children love. Personally, I’ve never been in it. I walked over and sat down and watched the sky. I looked at the area, which is bricked, and thought, “the bricks have been laid for what I am to do.” Right at that moment, the sun came out and nearly blinded me. It seemed to be shining right in my eyes. I turned to go and had to pick up a small limb on the path. Now I admit I am a very metaphorical thinker, but I try not to read too much into every little thing, especially spiritually. But I felt a profound sense right then that I was simply “clearing my path.” The bricks, or foundation, has already been laid for me and by me. And the storm clouds are parting – the sun is shining for me. And I had taken the road, as Robert Frost so eloquently pictured, less traveled by. Up the hill. Just to the side of church.

I continued on my walk and as I rounded the corner, I happened to see my friend Dorothy inside the church. She is our food service director, and I absolutely adore her. She saw me too, we both waved, she opened the door. We spoke for a moment and I told her how glad I was to see her, and a teeny bit about my day. Dorothy wrapped me in her arms and hugged me tight. I told her I had a sense that everything was going to be all right. She said something along of the lines of, “Yes, it is going to be all right. Everything will be fine. God is so good. Let me hug you again.” Tears again flooded my eyes. Of everyone I could have seen on our church staff, no one could have touched me more than Dorothy. She was God’s hands at that moment, hugging me not once but twice, assuring me that whatever was transpiring with me was good news.

I walked away from her and thought, “This is all we really need… a soft place to land.” Dorothy did for me in that moment what I so desperately needed. She held me where I was. And just like I’d expect from Dorothy, she fed me. Daily Bread. Living Water.

There is more to say. There were more moments in my day. But what felt like the most important thing today was a safe place to LET GO. Let it go.

Barbara Brown Taylor said it best in her book Leaving Church, a text I sat with again today. She said, “I was falling… To finish the sentence was to abandon everything I knew for something I could not trust: that God was in this loss, which was not robbery but relinquishment. .. If I could open my hands, then all that fell from them might flower on the way down. It I could let myself fall, then I too might land in a fertile place.” She took comfort in her own decisions in a quote from Walter Brueggemann, “The world for which you have been so carefully prepared is being taken from you… by the grace of God.”

I know I am well prepared for the course of action that has consumed my life for so long. I struggle to know that it has not been a waste; I struggle to be sure that I didn’t misunderstand the path I have pursued. The road less traveled is prickly at best. And yet, it is MY path. God didn’t stop calling; God calls still. And if I can open my hands, I expect I will find the ability to move more freely on my journey.

I also think it means I have accomplished a very Successful Failure, which is a really important thing to experience and live through, and I feel the peace in that. I really do want to be a person of courage, and I can feel that this decision is a courageous one. As Dorothy said, and as I feel deep inside, “Everything will be fine.” And I feel that my steps are a little lighter.

I am going to do my best to let go. I am going to do my best to embrace the warmth of that hug, that assurance that God’s grace will carry me. And I am going to walk tenderly and be kind to myself.

In Wisdom,
Brandi Calhoun Diamond