This universal feast of Catholic and Orthodox Churches comes from the Gospel of James. Joachim and Anna, righteous but childless, finally had a daughter in their old age. Mary had an attachment to the Temple, and at three went to live there. Escorted by her parents she came to the steps of the Temple, fifteen in number. Not only did she go up the stairs herself but she danced. This was her home. Zacharias took her into the Holy of Holies. Mary lived in the Temple until twelve, frequently visited by her parents until their deaths. She didn't want to leave the Temple when she turned twelve, but propriety demanded she go. And thus Joseph, an old widower who really just wanted to be left alone, was found.
Childhood love is everything. Sometimes this is obvious; I'm married to my childhood sweetheart. We now have babies of our own. What I experienced in my wife then carried forward into adulthood and new life has come from it. Very few people can claim that, or should. It's not like my wife and I married our childhood memories of each other. We found that what we have now, in the present, was marriage material. Neither of us had rejected the things we'd loved about each other in the first place, and so our childhood impressions stuck with one person.
But that doesn't mean what you love as kids stops mattering. I'd argue it never really goes away. If anything those are the memories I think one should clutch to the hardest. That feeling of beauty, of grace, however you found it? That can keep you going. I know it did me. What memories do you have that are beautiful? That make you better for remembering, no matter how painful it can be to do so? Nevermind if you think it's irrelevant. I assure you it's not, but is far more important than you know.
One of the most powerful memories I have is sitting up in a friend's treehouse on a farm in Illinois. The sun was setting; the fields were bathed in gold and shadow. I was by myself. It was quiet. Sitting there, after a long day of playing, I was struck by the silent light. The world was wrapped in a golden hue. A few minutes later and I found myself singing. It seemed the only way to really add to the beauty at the time. A few minutes later and I found myself climbing down to play with my friends.
It's a simple moment. My appreciation for it never seems to fade. I have to learn to do this more often, but every time I go back to that moment I'm a calmer, more thoughtful person when I come back out. It doesn't really have a lot of "deeper meaning" to it.
I think the Theotokos dancing up the steps of the temple at three is one of those moments. She was going to live at the temple, where she always wanted to be. She was happy. And anyone who has seen a three year old climb steps knows it can be some work for them. But the Theotokos saw them as an opportunity to dance. And I'll bet you that moment stuck with her, all her life. A moment of pure joy, where the usually laborious steps were an opportunity to dance.
I'll bet we all have moments like that.
Don't leave them, okay?
I know it's not easy.
But I think it's worth it, to fan that little light.
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