Epiphany Star Words: My blessing, my nemesis

Recently I texted a group of parents seeking a ride for our daughter to a friend’s birthday party. It wasn’t the first time, and wouldn’t be the final time, that I found myself asking for a favor from another overworked, mental-labor-carrying (usually female) class parent. That Saturday morning, I was scheduled to be at work, and my husband was booked to be with our son at a Best Buddies program which required a parent to stay with him the whole time.

Perhaps it’s a suburban thing, or a me thing, but I don’t love asking for help. As I texted the group, I knew that someone would pipe up and volunteer to take our child; after all, we aren’t friends with a lot of jerks (in fact, they are a bunch of absolutely lovely humans). But I didn’t like asking for what I continually understand to be ‘favors’.

Assisting others, though? I am IN. I’ll grab kids, bring casseroles, send memes, add items to my Costco run, and drop off for neighbors, you name it. I’m not sure that any of the above are good or funny or tasty, but I like being of service. It’s not my primary love language, but acts of service is definitely one of my top two.

Receiving other people’s kindness and help? I am terrible at it. Deep in my psyche there is a gremlin who believes we are meant to all live under our own bridges. To indicate that we are not fully able to care, deal, or handle our own lives and the choices we make within them, is as gratuitous a sin as we can get. It also might be 25 years living in frosty New England or internalized ableism rubbing off on me, but either way, it’s there.

Epiphany Star Words had not been a part of my spiritual practice until the past few years. Star Words are words gleaned from the scriptures and picked randomly as a ‘guiding word’ or point of meditation and prayer throughout the coming year. Epiphany is when Jesus was shared with the rest of the world through the comings and goings of the Wise Ones. In that moment he was no longer simply the child of Mary and Joseph, belonging to them alone—but he was the One to redeem Israel; to set us free; to reimagine the incarnation as not divorced from divinity, but rather to infuse the secular with the sacred. In Jesus’ birth, nothing would ever be apart from God again.

Think of the first time you shared a photo of your child with the world (or even extended family)—there was beauty in the sharing, but somehow, the child became a part of the world, and not simply a being belonging only to one specific family.

Epiphany reminds us that we are not siloes, no matter how much my inner gremlin desires that, tells me that, insinuates that by reaching out to a larger family of God, that I am less than, or weak, or not pulling my own weight. The gremlin (which is, ahem, me) wants to make sharing seem needy, rather than trusting; demanding, rather than valued. I know this, but oftentimes my knowing doesn’t always keep up with my belief in it.

The last two years, the words I have received, and trust were randomly chosen by a beloved colleague and sent to me via mail, have been ‘receive’ and ‘gracious’. A little on the nose for my taste, but So. Very. Apt. Receiving with graciousness is not my strong suit, as I internally arm myself to imagine what ‘favors’ I’ll need to reciprocate with immediately to make it all even.

The incarnation is never really about a manger far, far away, long, long ago. The incarnation is all about God suffusing God’s presence abundantly, graciously, without strings attached. It is about welcoming those who are curious about not only the star itself, but what the star represents—a divinity who comes close. When the Wise Ones approach Jesus, they offer what they have, and it is welcomed with gratitude by the Holy Family—and yet no exchange takes place. Simply giving, and receiving, the gifts, with grace, allows both parties to return to their lives differently.

Receive. Graciousness. And now the Star Word for 2024 is in the mail to me, and I wonder what God will nudge in me this year, text threads and Saturday birthday parties and all, just so I can be reminded of God choosing to dwell with us, this season and always.