the beginning of christmas: an angel on the shelf



 “When the song of the angel is still, when the star in the sky is gone, when kings and princes are home, when the shepherds are back with their sheep, the work of Christmas begins: to find the

lost, to heal the broken, to feed the hungry, to release the prisoner, to rebuild the nations, to bring peace among people, to make music in the heart.” Howard Thurman


Every year in that fragile time between Christmas and New Year’s, or for that matter until Epiphany, I try to hold onto something which I thought I had captured on Christmas Eve, some sense of light and love and peace. I water the tree excessively ignoring the falling needles. I stare extra deeply into the angels strewn about the shelves. I replace those tiny window candle lights even if for a day. I am fighting off a sadness and inevitability until I realize in my aging that these desperate acts have little to do with the heart of Christmas; and the heart of Christmas is not confined to one day or twelve. 


Howard Thurman always assists my revelations as I recall his words of being rather than doing and his reminder that endings can be beginnings.


The return to life after Christmas, after Epiphany really, is less a departure than an arrival or perhaps an entry into a deeper inspired life. Imagine becoming the peace, being a musician of caring, a liberator instead of an imprisoner, a healer, a nurturer, a wilderness guide. These seem to be amazing vocations needing no degrees or certifications (of which I have too many?!). These are vocations which as the derivation suggests “call out” of ourselves that which we are genuinely. Christmas then, today, tomorrow, months from now, continues to call our the immense possibilities of who and whose we are.


So, lest I forget this revelation again, I am leaving an angel on my bookshelf to accompany my becoming, to call to me “fear not, I bring tidings of great joy”. 



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