Just sitting around in between chores, when suddenly an angel appears. As if.
We take this story quite seriously, giving it foundational significance, getting right to the core message (“Messiah on the way!”) while hardly pausing at the shocking implausibility of the entire matter.
I know what I would do if I were sitting here and suddenly an angel swept in.
I would call the doctor straightaway. Get some medication. Get back on an even keel. Square things away.
But that is just precisely the point, is it not? The issue isn’t the coming of the Messiah, who, being God, could chose the where and when, being, after all, their creator.
The very point is the implausibility.
What response shall we make to the most unexpected of joys?
How shall we live?
Of late I have noticed minute shifts, imperceptible on their own, which have in the aggregate created a new spirit in me, a more open and welcoming outlook, a new willingness to engage, and yes, at times, a child-like enchantment. Laughter bubbles up, and there is joy in simple things.
All this is seemingly without a source, yet that cannot be. What is irrefutable is how welcome is this new life within.
And perhaps this is, one might hope, just one of many ways in which one might say, “let it be done to me according to thy will.”