Christmas Songs (Tell His Story)

 Up on the housetop reindeer pause,

oh, dear God, it's Santa Claus

in an overloaded sleigh with runners bowed,

he's exceeded our roof's maximum load.

Ho, ho, ho, there the rafters go!

Ho, ho, ho, look out below!

Down through each story, quick, quick, quick,

and into the basement goes Good Saint Nick!

And it gets worse.

Jolly Old Jack Nicklaus,

we know you came to play,

and we're sure you will not go

make even one bo-gay!

Masters time is coming soon,

so you badass man,

send the Young Turks to the moon

when you kick them in the can.

More ice cream for Sylvia, hearing these.

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Stand

 When the night's the darkest black

and you're nearing journey's end,

don't look forward, don't look back,

and for pity's sake don't bend,

for will is all that you have left

to get you through the awful now.

Think not on life's warp and weft,

and do not wonder how

you're going to face a worse tomorrow,

if tomorrow deigns to come

In any case you've got to borrow

strength when you at last have none,

and stand erect before death's door

when you don't know what you're standing for.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is STUFF.

The keyword for this week is STUFF,

another post, another song,

but I have really had enough,

and I don't know how to go on.

The nights are long, no counting sheep 

because the bones sullenly ache

far too much for any sleep,

and I think there must be some mistake 

that was made by angel-scribe

in setting out what is my life;

perhaps the cherub did imbibe

a spirit that cut like a knife

and feeling sick as sick can be

thought to take it out on me.

Sylvia will stand with me.

How Do You Approach Advent? (Tell His Story)

 What does Advent mean to you?

It's the run-up to Christmas...and to Good Friday...

...and to the Resurrection, and our deliverance from damnation.

Have to admit, I have trouble wrapping my thoughts around the whole thing. I'd love to separate out the Holy Night, and the manger, and that quiet intimacy under the stars the angels placed.

But I see to the end, and that no longer works, and Advent is left as the beginning of a Mystery, great and terrible and glorious.

How can a Child be born to die,

the only Son of God,

the apple of His golden eye,

for a world so flawed?

How could dear Mary bear the truth,

and not dissolve in tears?

In what form did God offer proof 

that could calm her fears?

And did strong Joseph come to know 

that he would not be there

to help his wife absorb the blow...

did he think it unfair,

or, as he held the newborn Son,

did he say, "Thy will be done"?

Is this how it should be?

What is it for you?

For Sylvia it's ice cream.

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