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Meditating on the Lost Season of Epiphany | Reflection

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Portion of the Nave Ceiling from the Ely Cathedral, England Often when we think of the Epiphany, we think of the feast day celebrated on January 6th in which the Magi visited the Infant Jesus and presented their gifts to Him. But in the older Church calendars, the Epiphany also marks the beginning of a sub-season within the larger Christmas Season called Epiphanytide or Time After Epiphany. Not many know about this part of the liturgical calendar, and personally, I think it's a shame because the more I learn about it, the more I find how rich it is in the spiritual fruits it has to offer. In the current liturgical calendar, themes of the Epiphany are present in the weeks between the feast day and Lent, but it is no longer considered a season and instead falls under the category of Ordinary Time. And while it echoes the sub-season it came to replace, it was fully separated from the larger Christmas Season. I consider it to be a sub-season because at a glance, it appears somewhat sep
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Gethsemane | Reflection

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Jesus Christ in Sorrow in Gethsemane by Carl Bloch Just sit with Me in My Passion, and I'll sit with you in yours. These are the words I feel internally that God may be placing on my heart at this time in my life. Since Azalea died, I've been hearing over and over to be gentle with myself, and I think God agrees and has been encouraging me to do so. But even more than that, through various conversations that I've had with my husband and my sister since then, I've been feeling more recently that maybe God has been asking me to slow down in many ways and to just be more present, both with my family and with Him. In these past couple weeks, I keep being presented with images and thoughts of Gethsemane, and at first I wasn't really sure why--but it felt significant. And then, my husband and I keep returning to the same sentiments in our conversations about returning to Mass (we haven't been back to Mass since Azalea died)--how we want to return to Mass, but don'
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Sonnet of the Sun | Poem

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The Woman Clothed with the Sun by Unknown In the reflection of the Moon, the Sun gives freely of its light To illuminate the increasing darkness of the days, To guide the way in the middle of the coldest nights. She is but the willing tabernacle of his rays. Long and bitter has been our winter in which we wait As we gaze upwards toward the Moon with bated breath. Is not the Sun promised to return and change our wretched fate, Lest we harden our fragile hearts and succumb to untimely death? Let us be not unprepared with weak, malnourished souls. Make haste! The Moon is setting; her labor is commencing soon. She yearns to lead us to the rising Sun before the nighttime takes its toll. Fear not. Lose not your hope, and keep your eyes affixed upon the Moon. For when the world will reach its darkest hour for all to be undone, The humble Mother will make way for the advent of the Son.
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