epiphanytide {a poem, not by me}

As I've found at so many points in my life, when you don't know what else to say, turn to poetry.

Oh, there are things to say: about how today is a record-breaking cold day; about how on my walk to the train station, I feared my eyes would freeze; about how I discovered that my mascara, while being water-proof, must not be cold-proof {perhaps the -37 windchill altered its chemical properties and took away its water-proofness}.

Or I could talk about how when I got home, legs shaking from the cold, there was a Post-It on my door from a neighbor: Cabin Fever Party! Come between 4 and 6 for snacks and chats!

It really said "chats," and that's really what I did with my neighbors for an hour or so over wine: we chatted about our days and how we survived the cold and how happy we were to have a place to be inside.

When it's this cold out, there are always things to say, even to perfect strangers. This is one of the great joys of weather and living in the Midwest: you always have something to talk about.

But it's also Epiphany today, when the wise men showed up on Jesus' doorstep with some pretty non-baby-friendly gifts, and we can once again celebrate the light that pierces our darkness. It's the light that comes just when you think the night can't get any darker, and that so small sliver of light can give you more hope than an entire sunny June.

Why does it do that? Why do the darkest, coldest nights make us cling to any little reminder of warmth that we can find? How is it that on a day like today—knee-deep in snow drifts and wrapped up in so many layers, you can barely bend your arms—it just takes one small gesture—a smile, a laugh—to feel so connected and right?

Oh, I don't know the answer to that. It probably has something to do with scarcity and something to do with how we were born for deep connection and something to do with Jesus in the manger.

On this quiet, cold night, then, I'm once again turning to poetry to let someone else try to get at the heart of the matter.

Epiphanytide
Christina Rossetti

Trembling before Thee we fall down to adore Thee,
Shamefaced and trembling we lift our eyes to Thee:
O First and with the last! annul our ruined past,
Rebuild us to Thy glory, set us free
From sin and from sorrow to fall down and worship Thee.

Full of pity view us, stretch Thy sceptre to us,
Bid us live that we may give ourselves to Thee:
O faithful Lord and true! stand up for us and do,
Make us lovely, make us new, set us free –
Heart and soul and spirit – to bring all and worship Thee.


Trembling before Thee we fall down to adore Thee,
Shamefaced and trembling we lift our eyes to Thee:
O First and with the last! annul our ruined past,
Rebuild us to Thy glory, set us free
From sin and from sorrow to fall down and worship Thee.

Full of pity view us, stretch Thy sceptre to us,
Bid us live that we may give ourselves to Thee:
O faithful Lord and true! stand up for us and do,
Make us lovely, make us new, set us free –
Heart and soul and spirit – to bring all and worship Thee.