John said

...every day has every day in it. A little bit of Christmas, a little bit of Easter. Some Pentecost swirling around. A few hours in Gethsemane. And, when he said it, I felt my anxious self tender up a huge sigh. Too often I am ashamed of the inconsistent roil of my days. Happy flinging itself right into sad; anger busting through laughter. I never know what is going to happen. And I fear, sometimes, that something is wrong with me.

But I like what John said. Love it in fact. And, today, while painting with some fourth graders, I was in advent -- waiting for the day when the painted panel joins the others and they offer a backdrop to our sweet songs. And then I had some flipping over of the tables in at the temple as three students in a row tried to pull off "copy and paste" reports as true research. Oh no, not in my land. The sermon on the mount rounded the corner about 4 o'clock as I sat with Najee and explained to him that lying about homework was worse than not doing it. That relationships matter more than events -- the trust between two people supersedes any work, done or not done. "Love," we decided together, "is messed up with lying." Then that day -- the one with a name I can never remember -- when the Magi came to deliver their gifts. Epiphany. Yes, epiphany, near the end of the day, when I realized that I had something important to say to Anne . And I held out my words to her like jewels. Plopping them slowly into her heart so she could hear how crucial her work is to our church family. I held out my thanks like a box of myrrh as the night fell and stars began to light my way home.

So, yes, I understand. Every day has every day in it.

Thanks be to God.