End of Year Epiphanies
By Jean Hastings Ardell
Because I’ve learned to be flexible about gathering family together over the holidays—so very many branches having sprouted on our family tree over the years: new in-laws, ex-in-laws, significant others, new babies, big babies, et cetera—I mark the Christmas season from December first through Jan. 6. If only for a cup of tea, I like to meet up with the people that have sustained me through the past year and/or are in need of sustenance themselves. Why Jan. 6? It’s the true end of Christmas, the Day of Epiphany.
This day has become a bit lost in the chaos of Christmas as we celebrate it, but it dates to the fourth century and commemorates the estimated twelve days that it would have taken for the three wise men to travel to Bethlehem, where they acknowledged that the baby in the manger was indeed the Christ child. For Christians, you could call it the first epiphany: God had come to earth to bring hope to a lost and troubled world.
I’ve always believed in a God who understands that the whole world needs hope. and I expect that heaven, in whatever form it takes, is far more expansive than many think, and will welcome Muslims, Jews, Buddhists, human secularists, and Democrats. I get criticized for this by some of my conservative friends but hold to it. To me, Jesus has never been about exclusivity.
“Epiphany” also has a secular meaning. It’s been defined as the aha! moment of a sudden insight or understanding. I’ve experienced a few of these moments over a year that began with the assault upon our nation’s Capitol building on, of all dates, Jan. 6, and looks to close with Major League Baseball’s players lockout, sandwiched between an historic pandemic. Here are a few:
Early on we learned to shelve our best-laid plans and just make do. With dinner reservations in town often hard to get and restaurants sometimes closed due to a shortage of staff, we discovered casual spots around Laguna, and… made do. Avoiding the gym, we made do with walks around Bluebird Canyon. We also had to make do with the toll that time takes upon us all—the ultimate acknowledgement that death does indeed come for all of us. We spent time with family and friends as they dealt with illness and injury. In late October we lost our friend and neighbor, Arnold Hano, at age 99. Somehow, we must make do without him.
As a backpacker who fell in love with the High Sierras many years ago, I’d always seen these mountains as the ultimate refuge from the world’s troubles. The idea being that when the complex urban world of Orange County became all too much, I could pull a Thoreau and retreat to the woods. The wildfires that decimated our forests these past months—in August we drove past miles of burned-out hills in Yosemite National Park—demonstrated that there is no ultimate refuge. Better make the best of where you are.
This past year it was easy to wallow in pessimism about the planet’s future. But then, in a moment of irrational optimism, we stopped in at Bloomingdale’s one Sunday in October and bought a new set of china. I mean, who does that at our age? Epiphany: Logic can be over-rated and will only get you so far. Sometimes you just want to act on impulse.
More on acts of impulse: Because we are devout members the church of baseball, as soon as the Atlanta Braves got into the World Series, son Jeff Tyler and his son Garrett, lifelong fans of that team, made plans to attend a game in Atlanta. Of course, they invited Gramps, a former ballplayer. They kindly invited me, too, but I know a guys’ trip when I see it. The three had a memorable weekend, a true carpe diem moment.
An early December surprise was the news that the book I co-authored with lefthander Ila Jane Borders, “Making My Pitch: A Woman’s Baseball Odyssey,” was named to Esquire magazine’s list of the 100 best baseball books ever. (I’m in fine company—Arnold Hano’s classic “A Day in the Bleachers” was on the list.) I’m glad that Ila’s story—as much about her struggle to live authentically as a gay, born-again Christian as her baseball career—has been recognized in this way. The epiphany? As an author I should have known this but find it quite magical that a writer I’ve never met from across the country, found the book, read it, and found value in the story.
Now we look to 2022, with all its uncertainties. Let me hope for one more epiphany: That we who love this town by the sea discover a way to get along better. Argue issues and policies all we like, but let’s respect the humanity in one another.
Jean is a Laguna Beach resident and member of the Third Street Writers.
