Wednesday, December 31, 2008

Glitter & Grime


We slogged along, we did. The mob of us, through the mud and the slush and the ice and the snow. Not snow like I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas. Snow like you find in the gutter six days later. Mud that sticks to your shoes and then your pants and then your shirt. And slush and grime. The kind of grime that starts on the outside, but ends up on the inside. In your eyes and mouth. Then in your throat. And finally, you’re pretty sure, the grime is coating the inside of your soul.

I kept my eyes down, because I didn’t need to look up. I knew the path. I’d been around this way hundreds of times. I watched the muddy boots in front of me as they sloshed loudly into that same hidden rut, followed by the same listless profanity. And then I stumbled on the same rock as a dozen times before. Curses!

When I did look up, I saw the same dingy, hunched over forms doing the same shapeless shuffle as yesterday and yester-week and yester-month. Every turn in the path promised something new, and every turn in the path delivered more dull sameness.

The occasional mirage of apparent festivity would come and go, but nothing changed. We trudged through the lights and the food and the façade of fun, feeling only more downcast by what we couldn’t experience. Any attempt to linger was quickly overruled by the endless marching horde behind.

And now, we see less sun every day. More night. More cold. Yet the pace quickens. Why? We see lights. We hear music. We sense excitement. It’s by far the grandest celebration we have seen. We rush towards it, falling and running over each other in a chaotic attempt to get there, to finally rest instead of strive. And then we’re there. And then it’s gone. Alas, it’s gone.

We’re off our pace now. Unfamiliar forms in front, unfamiliar ruts. We seem suddenly to have no place to go. But in the bewildered shuffling, I find the crowd spreading out. The path is wider. Still mud and slush and grime. But in between the figures before me, I see bits of fresh snow, untouched by muddy boots. I look to the left, and I look to the right, and I see, we’re all side by side. Everybody’s at the front of the line. We’re approaching the mountaintop together. It becomes a march, stepping as one through the muck and the mire.

We’re counting steps now, 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4. And then: 10, 9, 8… in unison, 7, 6, 5, we can feel it, 4…3…2…1 – and we’re struck silent, standing breathless in awe at the sight before us.

It’s magnificent, as far as the eye can see, miles of pure, glistening white snow. Not a footprint to be seen. Not a splatter of mud. Just sparkling clean snow, waiting for the first footprint. Trees glitter and glorious sunlight shimmers off a crystal clear lake. Unbroken snow beckons: Make your own path.

So the light ahead becomes the light within. It cleanses from my soul all the grime of the past. It’s a new day. It’s a new year. If I choose, it’s a new life.

Monday, December 29, 2008

If moments were ornaments...



...these would shine the brightest:

  • Christmas Eve opening number at New Pointe. Trans Siberian Orchestra, eat your heart out. And the closing number. Little drummer boy, here’s to you.


  • Talking with (unnamed friend) of my (unidentified offspring) and thinking, "This is a very cool (guy/girl), I hope (he/she) spends more time with my (unspecified offspring.) It’s complicated.


  • Realizing that for five people whose main goal is enjoying their time together, Panic Room can be a great Christmas movie. I suppose for too many parents, it’s just a Christmas Eve reality.


  • Christmas morning breakfast. Family. Crepes and eggs. Coffee. Smile.


  • Settling down on the floor by the tree. Anticipation.


  • Bestest Daughter opening her complete Friends DVD set. Her eyes and mouth were wide open, but no sound came out.


  • The bewildered look on Bestest Son’s face for the time it took him to figure out it was not a cheap camera case, but a case holding the lock-picking set he had asked for.


  • Realizing that Bestest Daughter had indeed found her way to Recognized Local Store and purchased the Specified Brand of a particular distillate for a father who would not indulge himself thus.


  • Giving a DVD player, and receiving one, which oddly enough is still not excessive in our house.


  • Understanding the thought and care that Bestest Son puts into his gift selection. He really wants you to like your gift.


  • The satisfaction on Luvly’s face when she realized Daughter had been listening when she described a pair of boots. And watching the joy on Bestest Daughter’s face.


  • My Mom being moved to tears by the sheer joy of spending an entire day with family.


  • Gathering extended family around the table in a temporarily transformed coffee shop dining room. Where family gathers, there’s a sense of home.


  • Living out the reason for the season. Peace in our home, goodwill to my family. It starts here.

Thursday, December 25, 2008

Christmas Confession

I used to listen to the all-Silent Night channel on Accuradio. Everybody's version of my favorite carol, for hours on end. And then I discovered on a random Christmas CD the best version I've ever heard.

The most beautiful musical instrument on earth is the divinely created female voice. The best way to sing this song is the way it's written; silent, and holy. And that's what I hear when Christina Aguilera sings this song, first in English, then in Spanish.

May we all know the dawn of redeeming grace.


Wednesday, December 24, 2008

Christmas Revelation

It was my 45th Christmas before I finally figured out the one essential moment when my soul tells me it’s Christmas. It is the moment when in my heart, I visit the manger. All else is preparation, periphery. The defining moment for me personally, comes in the stable, by the manger.

For my family, Christmas is when we gather around and open our presents. It is a rare and special thing for our family to spend any time together not being entertained. So we gather, we give, we receive, we thank, we enjoy.

For my heart to know Christmas, it is the journey to the manger, and it is very personal. Usually that comes in the normal course of our Christmas events, a church play, a drama or musical performance. Maybe even a sermon. I suppose that is why any Christmas drama I was involved with at church was incomplete without a manger scene. You could take a thousand different paths to get there, but a Christmas drama of any sort always had to end at the manger.

When an ice storm cancelled our Christmas Eve service several years ago, we attended a wonderful service elsewhere, but it didn’t take me to the manger. And we didn’t go to a Christmas play at the regional theater, we went to a Holiday Show. It felt empty. It had no soul.

And then I read the B.C. Christmas Day comic strip. I read the message in the stars, and I joined the characters at the entrance to the stable. And in that moment I understood: This is the heart of Christmas to me. I enter the stable, and stand with the shepherds and the wise men in adoration of Mary, Joseph, and the new-born King, Emmanuel, the baby Jesus.

God rest ye merry, gentle folk. Oh come, let us adore Him.

Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Ho, Ho, Haiku

Ho ho haiku! I’m a finalist in the 17 syllable contest I mentioned last week. I entered the one that got a comment, (thank you Jason,) and made the top five out of a hundred or so.

Finalists and funky category winners are here. It’s a fun read, here are a few of my favorites:

The winner:
(anlyledo)
Winter morning yawns
A downy peace covers all
I burrow deeper

One of the finalists:
(Me)
Pent up words rusting
In my soul where I can't reach
With my fountain pen.

And a few category winners:

(Richard Mabry)
"Dashing through the snow
In a one-horse open sleigh.
O'er the fields we go...."

(Cosimod)
Of cookies and milk
Santa dines night and day. He
can't fit in his sleigh.

(Me)
Santa said if I
Was good, he’d give back Christmas
To that Jesus guy.

Saturday, December 20, 2008

WE

"…back before WE learned WE had cancer."

So says my friend Jason in this post. We have cancer. Not my son, but we. How powerful is that?

This is not just an individual battle, this is a family fighting together. And from what I can see, it’s not just the immediate family of Mom, Dad and three sisters. It’s extended family too, aunts and uncles, grandmas and grandpas, all involved in bringing this brave soldier back to health.

Granted, this is not entirely a matter of choice for immediate family. I can only imagine how this turned family life upside down in so many ways. There must be times for the girls when it seems everything revolves around little brother. But if you’re in it as a family, if you really look at it as something we face, then you do everything you can for the family member who needs it.

We could use a lot more of that attitude. In our families. In our neighborhoods and our churches. In our nation and in our world. And I’m guessing it starts with me, getting my eyes off me, and onto we.

WE might just be the most powerful word on the planet.

Wednesday, December 17, 2008

17 Syllable Japanese Sneeze

http://cba-ramblings.blogspot.com/
/\
/\
/\
Haiku contest there
One entry per person please
Here's what else I wrote.

On Christmas:

Found the perfect gift
When the babe in the manger
Found room in my heart.

Christmas lights and trees
Gifts and carols and candy
Point the way to - peace?

Silent, holy night
Is what I got for Christmas
At the manger bed.

On writing:

Talent trapped inside
Rusts the soul, so why can't I
Open up the tap?

Pent up words rusting
In my soul where I can't reach
With my fountain pen.

Go check it out, add your own. Yes, you.

Tuesday, December 16, 2008

A Christmas Tale in Four Acts


A fictional conversation with John Bunn, based on his recent postulation that not just the Christmas story, but the story arc of Scripture, can be captured in four words.


sez Mark: So John, what’s Act I of your play?

John Bunn: OF.

sM: Of what?

JB: OF. Adam and Eve were created in the image OF God.

sM: Beats the proverbial silver spoon, doesn’t it? And what is Act II?

JB: That’s right, how did you guess?

SM: Huh?

JB: Act II is AND. Adam and Eve went down their own path. So now there’s separation, Man AND God.

sM: So what do you start Act III with?

JB: WITH.

sM: Yes, with?

JB: Yes, WITH. Act III is WITH. That’s the Christmas part. His name is Emmanuel, God WITH us.

sM: Then it ends in Act IV?

JB: You’re right, IN.

sM: I am?

JB: Act IV is IN. If you ask, the Spirit will live IN you.

sM: Is that like the ghost of Christmas past? Or like the Force?

JB: Were you listening on Sunday?

sM: It was early service, give me a break.


Of, and, with, in. I love a short story. Especially with a good ending.

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

Suede Booties


"The world is a strange place right now. It's off its axis," a salesman from a Fifth Avenue retailer is quoted in the New York Times. Why? Travesties such as: Barney's of New York has suede booties marked down from $1195 to $720.

Suede booties for only $720? This is the stuff of economic crisis? Well.

I will confess to being a frugal shopper. I'm less interested in "Can I afford it?" and more interested in "Can I live without it?" So how would I spend $720 on clothes? Heh.

Let's see, my tailor is the Harvest Thrift store, my couturier Steve & Barry's, my haberdasher is WalMart, Gabes is my cobbler, and my hatter is the lost and found box at Java Jo's. Yes, $720 will last awhile. How long?

A brief survey of my closets told me thus: The "world off its axis" price of those suede booties will keep me in dress shirts and pants, T-shirts and jeans, sweaters and hoodies, jackets and coats, hats and scarves, shoes and boots for a year. Twice. At least.

Can you wisely spend more money on better quality? Of course. My job doesn't require a pricey wardrobe, and our social life is casual. I dress better for a job interview than I do for church. But I'm not a slob. My favorite fashionista told me I look like a "city sleeker." I think it was a compliment.

So is the world off its axis? Maybe the one that's spinning on a fragile, mortgaged spire atop a house of (credit) cards. The real world, where you earn money, then spend it on things you really need, or dearly love, that world may just be regaining its balance.

Oh, and Naomi, you can stop drooling now :-)

Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Who's on Bass?

(A mostly true story)


The scene is a coffee shop throbbing with music. Two brothers and two friends jamming for two hours. It's standing room only at Java Jo, one of those rare performances you wish could last forever. But who are the players?

"So which ones are the two brothers?" Ed leans close to be heard over the music.

"Joas and Joel," I nod toward the band in the corner.

"Joel is the drummer?"

"No the other Joel. Yes, the drummer’s name is Joel, but the other Joel is the brother. He’s the one with the hat."

"Oh the one on the harmonica?"

"No, the other one with a hat. The one playing guitar."

"But not the one sitting down?"

"No, the one sitting down with the guitar is Joas. Oh wait, now Joel is sitting down, too."

"So Joas is the one wearing a vest?"

"Yes, no, the guy on the harmonica’s wearing a vest."

"What’s his name?"

"I don’t know. Just some guy that came with Joas. But Joas is wearing a vest too."

"So the brothers are the two guys with vests?"

"No the brothers are Joas and Joel. Joas is the one with a vest playing guitar."

"The vest plays guitar?"

"No, Joas plays guitar, wearing a vest."

"The guitar wears a vest?"

"See the guy sitting in a chair, playing a guitar?"

"The one with a vest?"

"The guy with a vest. That guy is playing a guitar. His name is Joas."

"The guy, or the guitar, or the vest?"

"The guy’s name is Joas."

"And his brother’s name is Joel?"

"His brother is the one wearing a hat and playing guitar."

"But not sitting down."

"Not right now."

"And the other Joel is the one with a beard?"

"The Joel with a beard is the guy on the drums. The other guy with a beard is Joas"

"The guy with a vest sitting and playing guitar?"

"Yes. The other guy with a vest is a friend."

"The one on harmonica?" The guy with a hat?"

"The other guy with a hat. Not Joel on the guitar, but the one with a hat playing harmonica. He’s the friend."

"And it’s not the hat playing the harmonica?"

"Might be."


The Cast:

Joas has a beard, wears a vest, sits and plays guitar amazingly. And sings. His brother…

...Joel has only stubble, wears a hat, stands (sometimes) and plays guitar similarly. And sings, maybe better.

Joel the drummer (actually the entire rhythm section since there's no bass), has a beard. No vest, no hat.

Friend (Chris?) wears a hat, and a vest, and plays harmonica marvelously.