Tuesday, December 25, 2012

She Was Five...

"Giggles" courtesy of Flickr artist Walt Stoneburner.
She was five and sure of the facts, and recited them with slow solemnity, convinced that every word was revelation.
She said, “they were so poor, they only had one peanut butter and jelly sandwich to eat, and they went a long way from home, without getting lost.  The lady rode on a donkey and the man walked, and the baby was inside the lady. They had to stay in a stable with an ox and an ass (hee-hee), but the three Rich Men found them because a star lifted the roof. Shepherds came and you could pet the sheep but not feed them. Then the baby was borned. And do you know who it was?”
With that her quarter eyes inflated to silver dollars. She said, “The baby was God.” And then she jumped into the air, whirled around, dove into the sofa, and buried her head under the cushion, which is the only proper response to the Good News of the Incarnation.

-- John Shea

Blessed are they who see Christmas through the eyes of a child.

Remain faithful,

Friday, December 21, 2012

No Room

Image "Knocking on Heaven's Door" courtesy of Flickr artist Vincent van der Pas

"No room," said the innkeeper,
And the Child was born in a stable.

Today that same Child stands at the door and knocks.
Will you, too, say "No room?"

-- David Jabs

This is, I think, my only original contribution to The Quote File and one of only two surviving poems that I have written.

When Jesus comes, he is the quintessential courteous Gentleman: he stands at the door and knocks.  He suffers the doorknob to be on the inside, with you, where you have the control to let Him in or keep Him out.

This is very different from the behavior of that seasonal charlatan that enters by stealth and without invitation and makes his way through sootier portals.

Merry Christmas!

edit:  This is actually my second original contribution.  I also wrote "Chartreuse Pillowcase" back during the wandering, caregiving years. 

The Weaver

My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me,
I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow, and I in foolish pride
forget He sees the upper but I the under side. 

Image "Loom - iPhone 4" courtesy of Flickr artist Jeffrey Turner

           Not till the loom is silent and 
the shuttles cease to fly,
shall God unroll the canvas and explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needed in the 
Weaver's skillful hand,
as threads of gold and silver in 
the pattern life has planned.

Image "In the details..." courtesy of Flickr artist Barb Howe

Benjamin Malachi Franklin (1882-1965)

Lord, today I choose to remember to thank you for both the threads of gold and silver, 
as well as the threads of black and gray.  And I purpose not to whine.

Remain faithful,

Thursday, December 20, 2012

What News Is This?

What is this news that we've heard from afar?
News from the wisemen following a star.
A babe is born, no a king they say,
Lying in  a manger, cradled in hay.
Tell us what shall we do with this newborn child?
Lying in the manger so sweet and mild?
Hold Him close to your heart, yes hold Him tight,
Remember and ponder what you've heard this night.

Images The Nativity and Mary at the Foot of the Cross courtesy of Flickr artist Sharon Mollerus

What is this news in the streets they cry?
Crucify him, crucify him, but tell us why?
What has he done, why must he die?
We've watched him grow and become a man,
Can his death be part of this mysterious plan?
Tell us what shall we do with this dying one?
Believe that they baby, this man is God's son.
Fall at the foot of that forsaken tree,
Give Him your heart there at calvary.

What is this news they try to conceal?
He's accomplished the purpose He came to reveal.
The mysterious plan is now open to all,
Open your heart and answer His call.

-- C. Ramirez