Most recently, when we were on vacation over Christmas, I went for a walk with the kids and found this surprising little clearing near a playground. In the middle were a couple of trees and a hill that called me to climb it. On top of the clearing I read St Patrick’s Breastplate aloud.
I asked the girls to join me for a couple of stanzas. It feels awkward to say aloud things that feel natural to think and feel. But I figure I have to try, and the need is always stronger around Christmas time. There’s something about Christmas that makes me antsy: it’s like I have all this energy and it has nowhere to go and no way to be expressed. I always miss my lack of religious practice most around Christmas.
I could say a lot about the last week of December 2024: maybe later. But this walk up the hill by the tree was a peaceful, complete moment. I remembered it when I read Paul’s essay.
