Epektasis

The Church sings of the waters waiting, of rivers and seas, of streams and springs, all anticipating the revelation of the Son at the Jordan. The feast has not yet arrived, but the world is poised, leaning quietly toward what is to come. Light bends low over the waters, preparing them to bear witness, even as all remains calm, still, and unremarkable.

This is the rhythm of preparation: hidden, patient, unnoticed by the passing eye. It is a rhythm not unfamiliar to those who have nurtured life in the ordinary ways of love. For on this day, my own mother enters my reflection. Born in 1957, she came into the world long after the Theotokos had already held the Word within her womb, yet she has shaped life, love, and faith with a gentleness that recalls the hidden labor of the saints.

The Theotokos carried Christ in her body, unseen, unheard, awaiting the hour of revelation. She prepared the world without fanfare, without hurry, without spectacle. My mother, too, has quietly carried and nurtured those entrusted to her: family, friends, a household of lives shaped by patience, wisdom, and care. The lessons she has taught me were not announced, but absorbed; they were not demanded, but given; they were not forced, but lived. In her love, I see echoes of the hidden preparation that allows Christ to be revealed in the Jordan.

Luke tells us, “And the Child grew and became strong in spirit, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon Him.” (Luke 2:40) Growth is rarely sudden. Revelation is rarely immediate. The hidden days, the quiet shaping of character, the patient tending of hearts—all these prepare us to receive the Light fully, without fear or distraction.

The forefeast of Theophany reminds us that God works quietly in hidden places. He prepares creation and those who dwell within it, shaping hearts, fortifying spirits, and revealing truth not through noise, but through faithful presence. As we lean toward the Jordan, we recognize that the same pattern of hidden work shapes not only the world, but our own lives.

Today, I honor my mother. Not merely for the day of her birth, but for the ongoing, unseen, steadfast shaping she has given to life, to love, to faith. In the patience of her care, in the constancy of her attention, I recognize the hand of God at work. Her life reflects, in miniature, the slow, careful preparation of the Theotokos, who bore the Light for the world to see. And I am reminded that all love, faithfully offered, is a participation in God’s own quiet labor in creation.

As the days move forward toward Theophany, may we learn to prepare in like manner: quietly, attentively, faithfully. May we tend the lives entrusted to us with patience and love, awaiting the revelation of God without hurry, without spectacle, without pride. And may we, like the waters of the Jordan, be ready to bear witness when the Light bends low to meet the world.

Closing Prayer

O Lord, who prepares all things in wisdom and patience, we thank You for the hidden labors of love in our lives, and for those whose care and guidance shape us quietly, faithfully, and without recognition. Bless the mothers, fathers, and caregivers who nurture life, strengthen hearts, and prepare the way for Your revelation. As we await Theophany, grant that we may learn patience, attentiveness, and humility, offering our days into Your hands. Amen.