When I was 4, I was given the role of the angel Gabriel in my tiny Catholic school's Christmas pageant. I have oddly clear memories of the shepherd-heralding angels insisting that all angels were supposed to go to the field, not to Mary. I got confused, kept going the wrong way, and someone else got my part.
Lately I've been feeling like my place isn't quite with the other people around me, and once again, it feels hard to trust that I'm called to be somewhere else. Adding to the confusion, I keep noticing people around me saying that our differences don't matter. When our differences are about things that are precious to me, they do matter. It's so hard for me to risk speaking up when I know my perspective isn't the same as my peers'. Dismissing differences has begun to feel like brushing aside components of identity so that we all get along. I like getting along, but I'd much rather be known and loved. Sometimes. When that's not too scary.
In some unbloggable ways, I can't go to the shepherds right now. I wish I could. The shepherds get a whole loud excited chorus of angels inviting them to celebrate. Mary's scene is pretty unnerving.
Insight from Different Versions of Psalm 126
6 hours ago