Epiphany

Epiphany

Mary Van Denend
Hospitality, Truth

It is hard to come here and not feel guilty. So I come bearing gifts: a bag of navel oranges and three pairs of warm socks (from my overstuffed drawer, yes, but clean and only slightly worn). In the morning they will all be snatched up, along with half of the oranges. Meanwhile, I stand outside in the dark and drizzle under the lamplight, waiting to be let in. My pillow’s stuffed in a white trash bag as deep blue splats form on my sleeping bag. It’s 11:00 p.m., January 6.

There are only four women staying at the shelter tonight, Maria tells me. Should be pretty quiet.

A Mind for Winter

Katie Noah Gibson
Place, Truth

The romance of snow-dusted rooftops and tree branches limned with white becomes much less lovely when bitter winds whip down your street, or clumps of grime-encrusted slush collect at the corners of city streets. For those of us who have to live through winter, going to work and the gym and the grocery store as usual, “a mind for winter” must be developed when we’re outside as well as inside.

What Are You Cooking for New Year’s?

Alice Smith
Feast, Hospitality

We lived under the same roof for less than two months. The short time gave us many answers to the question, “What makes a house a home?” Shared meals and laughter became the foundation. Courage to tell each other our hard life experiences formed a beautiful entryway. Talking while cooking and cleaning side by side put up an internal framework that remains. 

A Prayer for the New Year

Jessica Brown
Truth

Twelve years ago in the little gift shop of St. Mary’s church in Oxford, I found a tray of laminated prayer cards. Assuming “An Ancient Country Prayer” would be about sun and harvest, I was surprised and delighted to read the first line:

Give me good digestion, Lord, and also something to digest . . .

I pounced on it happily — here was a prayer I could relate to. I would not know then, as I drew out my coins, that this prayer card would go with me for the next years to other countries, into married life, into motherhood.

Ode to Knitting

Heather A. Goodman
Crafty

At some point, I notice an anomaly in the sweater — the consequence of knitting while watching TV. I’ve messed up the pattern, miscounted. I consider the damage. How much work would it take to undo four rows of stitches and re-knit? How noticeable is it? In the end, stitch by stitch, I remove the rows. I’ve become quite accomplished at this work of unknitting, even with complicated slipstitches, increases and cables. The piece won’t be perfect (how else would they recognize it as hand-knit?), but I want it to be beautiful.