New Year's Resolution (Tell His Story)

Maybe the best New Year's promise is honestly.

I set my resolution

for the coming year

to show there's no solution 

in not showing fear,

for dread has gripped the heart of me,

and makes me want to fly

across some strange and distant sea

and bid cancer goodbye.

To deny this is untrue,

a weakness, not a strength,

and so I will pledge to you

to not go on at length

about the terrors that I feel,

but I will admit they're real.

Sylvia says, don't be afraid, Dad. God's here, and so am I.

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Boxing Day

 

Yes, it is hard to resist 

the siren call of Boxing Day

and the mighty thunder-fist

of the greatest, Cassius Clay,

who floated like a butterfly 

for all the sporting world to see,

far faster than the quickest eye,

stung just like an angry bee,

leaving losers sore amazed

(with the emphasis on 'sore'),

and the Lord God, to be praised,

saw the best, and raised up more

to challenge renamed Muh'mad Ali,

and so He set Mike Tyson free.

Granted, Mike Tyson never fought Muhammad Ali...but what a bout that would have been!

Sylvia thinks that Boxers are just econo-Pitties.

Football For Christmas

 

Because of a switch in phones...I write these things on a Smartphone...I missed my normal Thursday night posting (Barb says it's not right to say 'I' and normal in the same paragraph, much less sentence), and so, here's one for Christmas.

It's something that just does appall
(what else is there to say?),

but they're making guys play football 

upon this Christmas Day,

for linemen too have family,

and yearn for Christmas cheer

gathered 'round the shining tree

this one day of the year,

and it feels wrong to tune on in

and hunt for Buff'lo wings,

impatient for game to begin,

while spurning finer things,

and anyway, passion's not fired

since the GOAT went and retired.

If you have to ask, yeah, Tom Brady.

Sylvia had a thought... Buffalo hot wings flavoured ice cream...

Favourite Christmas Music (Tell His Story)

 

What's your favourite Christmas carol?

Mine is Better Days by the Goo Goo Dolls (once I get past the band's odd name), but running a close second (and here, linked) is  Love Came Down At Christmas, from Jars Of Clay. The video's charming.

Sylvia's favourite is, of course, Carol Of The Bulls, followed closely by that canine version of Jingle Bells.

We hope you have a wonderful Christmas!

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Christmas Reading (Tell His Story)

 People like to talk about Christmas movies... but what do you read at Christmastime?

Something new, or a personal tradition?

For me it's William Barrett's The Left Hand Of God, a story of redemption and risk set in post-WW2 China.

Every year.

What about you?

Sylvia, unfortunately, can't read. Not that it bothers her when there's ice cream to be had.

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Who Could Have Seen It Coming?

 Who could truly have foreseen 

what lay beyond that stable birth,

the dawning day of Heaven's dream,

the saving of a fallen Earth?

Who could have looked at the child,

so fragile then in Mary's arms,

and seen a Saviour meek and mild

and stalwart in the face of harms

that rose in anger from Abyss

to reclaim what they thought their own,

and could not be resolved to this,

that their fate had now been sown

by that Babe, now fast asleep,

the Hero who would light the deep.

The Five Minute Friday prompt this week is LONG.

It was a really lengthy trip,

following that shining star,

and friends said they'd lost their grip,

but Magi said, Well, here we are

to see the whole wide world's new king

sleeping in a manger

and unaware of anything 

that could be a danger,

but the Wise Men realized

that Herod was off his nut,

thinking Baby's death be prized,

so they went and cut

and ran home by another route

to avoid a royal dispute.

Music from the Goo Goo Dolls, with Better Days

Had Sylvia been among the Magi, she would have brought ice cream.

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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