Every morning when I wake up, I look out our window to the side pasture: home to my mowed labyrinth. Sometimes in the winter I make a snow version, and look forward to attempting that today.
This same pasture was the site of our wedding nearly seven months ago. For that celebration, I wrapped the trees that circle the labyrinth with some of my paper words. I can see the words from our bedroom, and they remind me of that day as well as the ways I want to live in the world.
At this point, the only word that remains is hope. This is my wish to you on this glorious Christmas day.
A Blessing for Christmas
Perhaps it does not begin.
Perhaps it is always.
Perhaps it takes
a lifetime
to open our eyes,
to learn to see
what has forever
shimmered in front of us—
the luminous line
of the map
in the dark
the vigil flame
in the house
of the heart
the love
so searing
we cannot keep
from singing,
from crying out
in testimony
and praise.
Perhaps this day
will be the mountain
over which
the dawn breaks.
Perhaps we
will turn our face
toward it,
toward what has been
always.
Perhaps
our eyes
will finally open
in ancient recognition,
willingly dazzled,
illuminated at last.
Perhaps this day
the light begins
in us.
—Jan Richardson from Circle of Grace
Today’s Assignment: