Wise women also came.
The fire burned
in their wombs
long before they saw
the flaming star
in the sky.
They walked in shadows,
trusting the path
would open
under the light of the moon.
Wise women also came,
seeking no directions,
no permission
from any king.
They came
by their own authority,
their own desire,
their own longing.
They came in quiet,
spreading no rumors,
sparking no fears
to lead
to innocents’ slaughter,
to their sister Rachel’s
inconsolable lamentations.
Wise women also came,
and they brought
useful gifts:
water for labor’s washing,
fire for warm illumination,
a blanket for swaddling.
Wise women also came,
at least three of them,
holding Mary in the labor,
crying out with her
in the birth pangs,
breathing ancient blessings
into her ear.
Wise women also came,
and they went,
as wise women always do,
home a different way.
I took a walk with some wise women in my life this afternoon to enjoy the snowstorm. We could barely see at the start of our journey because the wind was so heavy blowing the snow.
But, onward we continued, reaching the lake that is beginning to freeze.
When we turned the corner walking toward where the beach would be, our eyes received a gift.
And, closer.
And, closer.
And, closer yet I went.
To get a semi-risky, but totally-worth-it picture.
Here you can see the size of the icicles in comparison to me.
Finally, another wise woman, Scholastica, with the light shining through the clouds in our courtyard, as we, too, went home a different way.
Let us walk in the holy presence.
