Leaves.
Inside out.
Living things
Buffeted by the unseen.
Wrecked into action
As if awoken violently from a still sleep.
The howling
And merciless,
Unending,
Exhalation from Heaven!
Not a creature is stirring
But for birds
Adjusting their navigation gear
After too many near misses.
"There's snow in the forecast"
And we will be stronger to face it
Because of today.

I am tempted to wonder, at times,
If my sin was ordained,
Since
God gives glorious vision
Into glorious grace,
Otherwise missed.

In the hour of my greatest need,
When my rage has been spent,
And my selfishness,
Profanity,
Lovelessness,
Anger,
Lying,
Cheating,
Law­lessness,
Single mindedness,
And my quest, in all the wrong ways, for love,
Stands alone.
When the darkness is my greatest achievement,
Still,
I AM FORGIVEN.
I AM LOVED.

This is senseless to me.
It belies comprehension.
It demands exploration.
And after all,
Remains senseless and incomprehensible
Except for the words I hear
As I lay wounded and trodden upon
By my own sin,
"Welcome home. Be at rest."

There he sat
Off in the distance.
Far.
Near.

Then he played,
And the fire began,
And the choir sang,
Off in the distance.

And the drums beat while he watched,
And the winds sang while he waited,
Nothing could move him,
And nothing could make him sing.
All was at war
Inside and out.

All was at peace
And there was no doubt.
Now the soft breeze
And just a guitar
Whispered its satisfaction.
All is well, all is well.
“Till tomorrow, then?”

NOTE: A comment on modern day Christmas.*

The shepherds have left
And the wise men are on their way back home.

Jesus bounces from thing to thing,
And Mary and Joseph smile delight.

This family of three are naught
But for the Christmas visits
Of poor, rich, and angelic choir.

The world moves on
And even now chocolate bunnies hit the shelves.

Jesus sleeps,
Unknown and unwanted.

NOTE:We are all so consumed with becoming well off or rich, or with accumulating enough power in combination with the riches. And when we make it, we will call it comfort. Not so for the three wise men.*

Wise?
Beyond words.
Rich?
Beyond imagination.
Humble?
They must have been,
To follow the star
That took them to Bethlehem.

Awestruck!
In the presence of the Baby,
Their gifts seeming small,
These couriers of us all.
“Praise God!
“Praise God!
“We have seen Him.”

Why am I weak
When my strength comes from God?

And why do I rage
When the God of peace
Lives within me?

This world is not my home.
It is only a test that
My patience must endure.

Home.
That faraway place that is as near
As my next breath.

I touch it,
Having wandered from the source
Of my strength
And peace.

I hold it dear.

His promise becomes real.

I smile inside
And carry on
For another day.