A lot of the time, my experience of faith is of something that just is. It lives somewhere in my hindbrain, where I keep the things that I take for granted and wouldn’t know how to stop even if I wanted to: like my heartbeat and my dreams.
There are moments, though.
They often come in the moments when I’ve had my mind on a million other things.
I don’t always have what you’d call the most conventional Christmas. This year, my Christmas happened in about three hours on very late Christmas Eve into very early Christmas Day when Midnight Mass fitted between two shifts with tinsel in my hair and a bit of sleep.
And there, in the middle of the Eucharist, that was a moment for me, when I remembered that this thing that I do take for granted is something that I really believe to be really and profoundly true. That the Word became human and lived among us — and everything, everything, that came after it.
That is really quite something, is that.