January 7: Blessing the House

January 7 is Orthodox Christmas (for all the other Orthodox churches besides the Greek Orthodox), and St. John's Day for the Greeks. It is, in my tradition, the official end of the Christmas season. 

In the Orthodox tradition, Epiphany is not the commemoration of the Magi's visit to Jesus, but rather the commemoration of Jesus' baptism. In the Orthodox tradition, it was the baptism that set in motion Jesus' ministry, not his birth--and that is when his identity became clear. 

After a liturgy that is especially beautiful, everyone drinks a tiny glass of holy water and heads to the ocean (in any Greek community that has one nearby) to watch the young men jump into the freezing cold water to retrieve a cross. Whoever gets the cross goes around the village, blessing each home with the cross. I was lucky enough to witness this tradition twice in my life--once when I was 9 and once in my late 30s.

In our church in Akron, Ohio, the priest visited homes and blessed them. In one of my earliest memories, my mother is singing to me as I take a bath, and there's a knock at the door. I can hear chanting and incense, and I grab a bottle of shampoo, probably because I've been left alone and this makes me nervous, and empty it into the bathtub. 

My mom reappears with the priest, who has to enter every room to bless it, and when they see me, they both crack up. Fr. George kneels beside the bathtub and blesses me, laughing the whole time. Then my mom mentions it will be my birthday in a couple days--I'm guessing it was probably my second or third birthday--and Fr. George breaks out into "Happy Birthday" in Greek. My mom joins in, and I splash around and laugh to the beat of the song.

I always bless my own home during the Ephiphany season of January 6-7. Instead of singing the correct song, because for some reason it's not one of the ones I know, I sing the Christmas hymn and the New Year's songs one last time. After that we start taking down the holiday decorations, and the house goes back to ordinary time.

The start of this year has been especially hard; my daughter is struggling with mental health and in the most serious crisis she's had since I adopted her nine years ago. We are struggling to get the proper resources for another resident, and the process of determining our foster son's final home is not even close to its end, nearly a year after he came to live with us. I had to take off time from work to deal with all of these things and dread going in on Monday to a massive amount of catch up. It is hard to see this new year as a time for new beginnings. 

But I am also so blessed. On Friday my partner had the day off and helped me finish a big project at work, and went to talk with some service providers so I could attend to my job. She insisted on taking me to see my daughter yesterday, even though I didn't feel ready, which ended up being the best possible things to do. A dear friend came and stayed with us, helping us through the chaos and being present as we talked. A new staff started with our son yesterday, and he had a blast with her--and we had much needed time to process and plan our visit. 

I am sitting right now in front of our lit tree, our dog and my daughter's dog lying next to each other, chewing on their bones, our outdoor cat insisting on going out, realizing somehow that the temperature has risen. One of our indoor cats is sitting on my feet. I just ate a slice of Basilopita for breakfast and am sipping my coffee. Strangely, it's 9:00 and no one else is yet awake. I am breathing in my word for the year, trust, trust, trust, and blessing this room and all of its beings with my eyes in preparation for the official blessing tonight.