Of Missing Something

Our little family of four did celebrate Epiphany this week.  We had a stress-free, calm day of doing things a little out of the ordinary.  There were Beignets for breakfast (new recipes just make me a happy girl - especially when they taste like funnel cake - seriously), a little bit of painting in the afternoon and presents around the fireplace (which, as a gas-powered fireplace, sadly, does not crackle) after dark. 

Relaxing?  Yes.

The feel I had been going for?  Not exactly.

I do need to put out there that I tried my very best to do away with all visions of grandeur, recognizing that my attempts to fulfill a specific photograph in my mind only end in stress for all involved and a very disappointed me.  So, no, we weren't in our finest clothes - it was a p.j. day all around.  And, no, we didn't have a fancy dinner - hamburgers and pasta it was - with a hot dog for the little one because it didn't feel like the day to argue (and we only had two pre-made hamburgers, anyway).  But all this I loved - it freed me to let go of high expectations in favor of living in the loving moment with my family.

Where the nagging feeling came from wasn't that we were doing something wrong, but that we were missing something.

I was thrilled to lay down a path toward a meaningful family tradition, but what we lost was the "meaningful."

This day of Epiphany was originally designed (centuries before we ever gathered around our tree) as remembrance for the Wise Men, but more so, a remembrance of Jesus Christ as the gateway for, not just the Isrealite people, but for the Gentiles as well - with whom we all, who are not Jewish by heritage, classify ourselves.  Jesus Christ is the reason we, as a race not originally belonging to God's "chosen people," celebrate, not only the Christmas season, but a year-long, life-long connection with our Creator.  This is what Epiphany is all about. 

But this was not was not what our epiphany was all about.  In fact, our day didn't even involve a family prayer beyond meal-times and bed-times.  Which is why, at the end of the day, I was left feeling . . . just a little empty, I suppose.

Yet, that was just one day.

Holiness isn't confined to one day. 

Here's to 357 more days in 2011 to "get it right" - or at least to aim for the goal.