Christmas Afterglow
Christmas Afterglow
savoring Christmas gifts not in a box,
sweet echoes of laughter,
dear traditions of music and story
Savoring Christmas gifts not in a box,
candlelight burning steady, strong
dear traditions of music and story
keeping and being kept, golden circle
Candlelight burning steady, strong
sweet echoes of laughter,
keeping and being kept, golden circle
Christmas afterglow.
Christmas Is A Place
Christmas is a place, like the hearth,
where we all come in from the cold.
Drawn by warmth and promise,
cheered in flickering light,
we get closer to the flame
and each other.
Christmas is a place, like the hearth,
Where we gather
in anticipation
of Gift and Giver,
basking around a campfire
of retold story.
Stoking to keep it hotly burning.
Christmas is a place, like my heart,
where the Mary-me receives once again
astonishing news and says yes
to giving birth and being born,
to delivering and being delivered,
to remembering.
Advent Lullaby
We are given myriad scenes of nativity.
Characters the same, yet always different
I return to Correggio’s Holy Night,
feel the sweet warm weight cradled in Mary’s arms,
smile at the glow on her adoring face,
the loose folds of her dress,
sleeves mingling with swaddling
Another page, another artist…
each capturing varying images of love on her face, light in her eyes.
I wonder about things she kept in her heart.
Precious ponders.
When I think of promises, I think of Mary.
Promised as a part of her people by God
Promised to Joseph in betrothal,
Promised alone in a new way by God
Promising to participate in this mystery.
I think of waiting when I think of Mary.
The world waited for thousands of years
for One who would help them turn around right.
Mary waited her forty weeks of pregnancy.
Did she smile in wonder?
In those times a baby-in-waiting was hidden.
No sonogram, no reassurance.
Waiting was for the unknown.
I think of songs.
“May it be to me as you have said,”
The next words we read in Luke ,
she is singing “Joy to the world,
the Lord has come! Let every heart
prepare him room.
My heart already has!”
-her first lullaby, and His.
The one who neither slumbers nor sleeps
but keeps
chose to come as a helpless baby
who needed sleeping, keeping.
As sweet mystery grew in her womb,
did she sing still?
As butterfly kicks began
did her eyes grow wide and weepy?
As her body and her heart made room
did she laugh and cry,
pray to understand?
As birthing began, promise kept, waiting over,
song became breathing, bearing, tearing.
In this hard work, was God magnified still?
As minor lament changed key to major praise,
did she sing again in exultation?
Did she hold her baby close
rock side to side,
singing a whispery lullaby of love,
echoing prophet’s promise?
“He will take great delight in you. He will quiet you with his love.
He will rejoice over you with singing.”
I receive the promise. I wait. I sing Mary’s songs.
Come, O come, Immanuel.
Many years ago, Peter Marshall’s sermon published in a tiny book called Let’s Keep Christmas joined what was then my small collection of Christmas books. There are many more books now, but the truths written on its pages make this one of my favorite to read during Advent. “…we will not spend Christmas…nor observe Christmas. We will keep Christmas – keep it as it is…in all the loveliness of its ancient traditions. May we keep it in our hearts, that we may be kept in its hope.” ~ Peter Marshall. Another favorite book is You Can Choose Christmas, by Clyde Reid. I think the words of both were in my mind when I wrote the following poem.
I Will Keep Christmas
I will keep Christmas
Waiting like a child on tiptoe
Eyes wide, watching for the wonder
Reaching for the light.
Waiting like a child on tiptoe
Heart full of anticipation
Reaching for the light
Singing, praying, hoping
Heart full of anticipation
Eyes wide, watching for the wonder.
Singing, praying, hoping
I will keep Christmas.
Art of Advent
Cherishing story and image long loved
Opening to untold story, unpainted canvas
Breathing lingering frankincense and myrrh
Gathering rosemary, remembering.
Opening to untold story, unpainted canvas
Blessing fresh possibility
Gathering rosemary, remembering
Unfurling swirl of mystery
Blessing fresh possibility
Breathing lingering frankincense and myrrh
Unfurling swirl of mystery
Cherishing image and story
Thanksgiving 2011
“ Gratitude is the inward feeling of kindness received.
Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling.
Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse.” ~ Henry Van Dyke
Today I am thankful it is November,
my favorite month of autumn,
my birthday month.
I was only one week old for my first Thanksgiving
not declared our official holiday until I was one!
Seventy-one Novembers string out behind
like fence posts or street lights
or white lines in the middle of a Texas highway.
Looking back I can see only so far,
then the fading distance
brings blurred markers of where I have been.
Feelings, impulses, followings
tumble around in kaleidoscopic color.
I was grateful in all those Novembers,
thankful much,
offered thanksgiving in most.
I take joy in this November,
I celebrate now.
Today, I give thanks for…
God’s enough
changing seasons of weather and life
learning both to let go and hold on
ordinary things
green leaves brushed with burnish
the fragrance of basil on my hands
as I gather seed
endurance
Grace and Mercy following me all the days of my life
Vision – the cornea donors who helped me see again
church, worship
lingering echoes of my granddaughters’ laughter
red crepe myrtle leaves
gold and scarlet Chinese tallow trees
caring friends
patience for waiting
our Meyer lemon tree harvest
singing songs of Christmas
poetry of Luci Shaw and Ruth Bell Graham
waking to sounds of Joe making coffee
the smell of burning cinnamon sticks in the chiminea
truth in a pumpkin poem – “hollowed out but shining”
morning music that sings “Come to the Quiet.”
simplicity in the chaos all around me
light and shadow
a curtain of moonflowers at my kitchen window
planting baby kale and cauliflower
mockingbirds on the fence
clock chimes, church bells
open arms
tender care
“paying attention, being astonished, and telling about it” (Mary Oliver)
Jan Karon’s recipe for roasting Rosemary and Honey onions
Holding the hands of those who have gone before (remembering Mother)
stitches of love in a crocheted afghan
my Forever Friend, Joe
Homework. Heartwork.
Seeds from our own pomegranates
books that are old friends
a stay at home day
my beloved sons
and my daughters who are my son’s wives
granddaughters, my delight
a garden to tend
Violin music
Kristin’s piano playing
porch time
love that will not let me go
Joe’s courage in spite of pain
cooking, my kitchen therapy
“the love which from our birth over and around us lies.” (J Rutter)
Our little satsuma tree looks like the Charlie Brown Christmas tree – spindly, lopsided, and scrawny. This year, we thought it did not bear any fruit at all. Then, we noticed this one glowing orange, weighing down its tiny branch so that it hung suspended, ever so much like a red Christmas ball on a stark bare branch I once saw spotlighted in a family’s front window. Before our frost this past week, I brought it inside. As Joe and I shared the sharp pop of fragrance when I peeled back the skin, and tasted the burst of tangy, tart and sweet juice, I was thankful for things that grow alone, unnoticed, and unappreciated. I want to be more attentive. I would hate to have missed this treat.
This display at our local garden center is created to be a “living wall”. As I enjoyed all the color and texture growing on this one spot, framed by the thoughts of a living wall, I was thankful for the lessons seasonal loss and gain teach me. True, there are no daffodils or spring green tree buds here, but oh, the richness and variation of autumn color. In the autumn of my life I am thankful for colorful change. Just as surely, winter will come. Then, too, I can draw strength from the one in whom we are rooted,
“There is a winter in all of our lives,
a chill and darkness that makes us yearn
for days that have gone
or put our hope in days yet to be.
Father God, you created seasons for a purpose.
Spring is full of expectation
buds breaking
frosts abating and an awakening
of creation before the first days of summer.
Now the sun gives warmth
and comfort to our lives
reviving aching joints
bringing colour, new life
and crops to fruiting.
Autumn gives nature space
to lean back, relax and enjoy the fruits of its labour
mellow colours in sky and landscape
as the earth prepares to rest.
Then winter, cold and bare as nature takes stock
rests, unwinds, sleeps until the time is right.
An endless cycle
and yet a perfect model.
We need a winter in our lives.
A time of rest, a time to stand still.
A time to reacquaint ourselves
with the faith in which we live and breathe.
It is only then that we can draw strength
from the one in whom we are rooted,
take time to grow and rise through the darkness
into the warm glow of your springtime,
to blossom and flourish,
bring colour and vitality into this world,
your garden.
Thank you Father
for the seasons of our lives”
written by John Birch, Methodist Lay Minister in Wales
I have planted ornamental kale and cabbage for spots of growth and color in my garden. Our cooler temperatures create a climate for their thriving. This makes me wonder what I am planting for growth and color in my life right now. We have had a long dry season in which weariness is far too common. I know that I need to choose what I plant and nourish in my garden – and in my life
Stones and Feathers 