Showing posts with label Merry Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Merry Christmas. Show all posts

12.24.2011

Merry Merry





It's Christmas Eve; we have a holiday puzzle half finished on the kitchen table, it is 5 below but we are hoping temps will rise a bit with the sunshine. Most of Colorado will see a white Christmas.
In the season of Advent with all the holiday craziness, I am always looking for hidden moments to reflect:
on the mystery of Christ's Nativity, on the World and my place in it, and My world and my place in it.
My hope at this season is that you will find yourself, in the quiet moments, surrounded by peace and filled with contentment and hope.
Merry, Merry Christmas.

12.20.2010

Follow the Star to a Place Unexpected....


Dear Friends,
Merry Christmas and all the Best in the New Year!

12.23.2009

From a "Merry Meeting" in Taos- wishes for a Merry Christmas

To all of you friends, some that I know, and some that I don't -
I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and all the best in the new year.

12.24.2008

Merry, Merry


From "A Christmas Memory" by Truman Capote

Well, I'm disappointed. Who wouldn't be? With socks, a Sunday school shirt, some handkerchiefs, a hand-me-down sweater and a years subscription to a religious magazine for children. The Little shepherd. It makes me boil. It really does.
My friend has a better haul. A sack of Satsumas, that's her best present. She is proudest, however, of a white wool shawl knitted by her married sister. But she "says" her favorite gift is the kite I built her. And it "is" very beautiful; though not as beautiful as the one she made me, which is blue and scattered with gold and green Good Conduct stars: moreover, my name is painted on it, "Buddy."
"Buddy, the wind is blowing."
The wind is blowing, and nothing will do till we've run to a pasture below the house where Queenie has scooted to bury her bone (and where, a winter hence, Queenie will be buried, too). There plunging through the healthy waist-high grass, we unreel our kites, feel them twitching at the string like sky fish as they swim into the wind. Satisfied, sun-warmed, we sprawl in the grass and peel Satsumas and watch our kites cavort. Soon I forget the socks and hand-me-down sweater. I'm as happy as if we'd already won the fifty-thousand-dollar Grand Prize in that coffee-naming contest.
"My, how foolish I am!" my friend cries, suddenly alert, like a woman remembering too late she has biscuits in the oven. "You know what I've always thought?" she asks in a time of discovery, and not smiling at me but a point beyond. "I've always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when He came it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don't know it's getting dark. And its been a comfort: to think of that shine taking away all the spooking feeling. But I'll wager it never happens. I'll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are" -her hand circles in a gesture that gathers clouds and kites and grass and Queenie pawing earth over her bone- "just what they've always been, was seeing Him. As for me, I could leave the world with today in my eyes."