As Kathleen goes through her seventh and next-to-last round of chemo, and as we are now in the midst of the flu season, we are being especially careful to avoid situations where she can be exposed to germs. We had to change our Thankgiving plans since both of Kathleen's brothers had colds. We thought of visiting our Asian daughters, but then remembered that they have kids who might be carriers of germs. So we stayed home and had a quiet holiday, just the two of us.
We were grateful for the telephone and internet, which helped us feel connected with family and friends. And we were grateful for friends like Debrah and Andre (whom we know through the Parliament of the World's Religions): they brought us a delicious pie, corn fritters, and stuffed squash on Thanksgiving day!
This will be our first Christmas where we aren't surrounded by children. During this season of Jesus' birthday, "Pastor Kathleen" and I usually help to organize all sorts of children's events, such as the traditional Nativity skit, or taking kids to a reactment of Bethlehem or to a Christmas concert. This year Kathleen's chemo will require her to be wary of children (and crowds) throughout much of December.
Perhaps that accounts for my "epiphany." Every Christmas season, beginning at Advent, I make it a pratice to look for the presence of Christ in some everyday situation. (I recommend this practice to you: you may be surprised at how it can change your outlook on life!) Over the years my "epiphanies" have often involved homeless people. Last year, when I went to Palisades Park here in Santa Monica to hand out sandwiches to the homeless, I saw two women, one black and one white, pushing a shopping cart near the pier and approached them. The black woman was carrying a Torah (yes, a Torah, not the Bible!). I asked her if she knew where homeless people were, and she said, "You are the sandwich guy, aren't you?" I said yes, surprised she knew my mission since I hadn't actually given her a sandwich. "I'd like to pray for you, " she said. She took my hands, looked me in the eyes, and prayed so fervently I felt lifted up to heaven. When she finished, I said, "You're an angel, aren't you?" She smiled and replied, "Hush, don't tell nobody."
This year another angel came to me in the form of a little girl. As I was sitting at meeting on Sunday, a beautiful blonde child, around six years old, walked up to me and greeted me by name. She then gave me an unexpected hug. She had never done this before to me, or to anyone else in meeting, and I felt as if the room had lit up with a radiant love. I was so happy words cannot begin to decribe the feeling.
When she left, I thought of a scene that had happened the day before at the Promenade when Kathleen and I went looking for the "dolphin," a statue where you can make contributions to the homeless. The dolphin is located in the midst of a busy outdoor shopping area, where are planning to have a peace vigil this coming Saturday. As I dropped in my dollar into the dolphin, two young girls saw me and were intrigued. They asked their parents what the dolphin was for, and were told it was for giving money to the poor. The children began begging their parents for money, and for some reason their parents were reluctant to give them any. Then the kids turned to their grandmother who of course couldn't resist opening her wallet (that's a granny's job!). The two girls excitedly took the money and dropped it into the dolphin. Kathleen and I were delighted by this family tableaux.
Then I realized what my blonde angel was telling me: God comes to us in the form of a child, in spontaneous acts of love and generosity, in a child-like heart.
I hope that you all see the face of Christ in the face of a child, or a stranger, or a friend, and may your heart be lifted up in joy. To paraphrase Meister Eckhart, What does it matter if Jesus was born in Bethlehem two thousands years ago if he is not born in your heart today?
