Not a partridge in sight

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Good morning. Today the twelve days of Christmas come to an end. Trees are undecorated, homes tidied, and we try to remember where the lights were stored last year. Yet before everything’s packed away, the Church pauses for Epiphany - a feast about gifts without bows or labels. Gold, frankincense and myrrh are striking, but perhaps the deeper gift for Mary and Joseph was unseen: reassurance, arriving just in time, that they weren’t failing in the extraordinary task given to them. I was thinking about that recently on the eve of a difficult meeting. I felt anxious, and did what clergy often do in such moments: prayed a bit, worried a lot, and checked my email far too often. But reassurance arrived by post. A parcel landed on the mat containing a surprise gift from someone from my past. They’d written a note saying that I’d once been kind and helpful to them. I don’t remember much about this. I recall the person clearly - but not the kindness. This is slightly embarrassing, but also offers hope. That unexpected gift steadied me. It reminded me that small, half-forgotten acts can matter more than we know, and that God has a habit of returning encouragement precisely when we need this. Perhaps the gifts brought by the Magi did something similar for Mary and Joseph: telling them: you’re seen, you’re trusted, and this strange road you’re walking is held within God’s purpose. Faithful God, thank you for the gifts that meet us in our need. Help us to trust your timing, to offer kindness freely, and to walk in your light. Amen.