What Remains
And Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. – Luke 2:19 (NRSVUE)
The guests have gone home. Yesterday’s feast reduced to leftovers and crumbs. Joy lingers in the quiet—until the quiet deepens. The celebration is over, and here you are.
Your hands are still. Your body aches from all the running around. Your mind replays what was said, what was felt, what slipped quietly past you. You wanted to capture the wonder-filled moments, to stretch them longer, to stay tucked inside their warmth.
But those moments have moved on. Their sparkle lingers in the corners. And still, you are here. Beloved, this, too, is holy. The after. The hush. The room no longer full, but not quite empty. A quiet that hums with what once was.
Mary, worn from labor and awe, made space to ponder. Her spirit—and her arms—were full. There was plenty for her to figure out and explain and document and plan and, and, and… But she pondered. She cradled the mystery as gently as the child in her arms, letting the unknown rest beside her like a dear companion.
Like Mary, you don’t have to rush to the next thing and plan for the next thing after that and process past things and get stuck on things older than that and, and, and… Treasure what remains.
Let what was be enough for now. Let wonder linger. Let stillness speak. Let memory rest. Let tomorrow arrive. Let breath return. Let your spirit mend. Let yourself be.
Prayer
God of quiet fullness, thank you for the sacred pause after the sacred celebration. Teach me to tend what is left behind with care. Help me treasure moments I can’t fully explain. Let my spirit find its rhythm again in the silence. Amen.
About the AuthorPhiwa Langeni creatively invites others into transformational liminal spaces between what has been and what is yet to be. They currently serve as the Associate Conference Minister for Equipping Leaders in the Southern California Nevada Conference UCC.