The singers are at the door. Not three wise men but a quartet of sweet children. Two young kings and two young queens, like the Pevensie children at the end of their first Narnian adventure. Their voices are angelsong and my German landlord rewards their performance with a donation for their chosen charity.
All of this is new to me, barely four months into my time in Munich. My landlord tells me it’s what they do every year, during the feast day of Epiphany, when the three wise men visited the baby Jesus. I love tradition and I love a good story, and this had both in spades.
Wise men and friends may come bearing gifts yet it’s the gifts that you don’t see, not the myrrh or the frankincense, but the blessings and the promise of companionship, of standing with you through good and bad, that are the best gifts and surprise of all. When it comes without your expecting it and your realisation, your understanding is true, why, I guess that’s an epiphany there.