Ah, the vigil of Epiphany, a momentous day of our Christmas season. I am spending a few hours re-reading my Christmas cards and praying for the recipient. I'll look at the card they chose to send out this year and notice what it says about them. I'll savor the written words and the sentiments included. It is always a fitting way to pray twice for those who send cards.
I also have a burst to clean my room. I vacuumed the carpets, washed the floor, tidied up some paint supplies, and have much of the space organized. A whole burst of energy.
Next, I'll work on my Spanish for tomorrow's mass. Why did I agree to do this? I haven't spoken Spanish for at least ten years and I wasn't good at it then. Why am I saying mass in Spanish and giving a homily? Why did I do this to myself and to inflict my poor language skills upon others? I thought I would offer them something good, but now I'm nervous. I think I needed a better transition before I tried saying mass in a different language. Maybe it is the grace of Epiphany where hospitality is a prime virtue.
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