Christmas “Presents”!
Bells jingle
Snowflakes tingle
Star bright
Silent night
Rustic
stable
Communion
table
Choir sing
Jesus king
Wise men
Praise Him
Winter
scape
Redemption
take
Season cold
Faith so bold
Children listen
Snow glisten
Mary
blessed
Christmas
guest
Trespass forgive
Passion live
Innocent kiss
Eternal bliss
Family
love
Heaven
above
Body bread
Savior fed
Blood wine
Redeemer find
Trinity
night
Glorious
sight
Tree delight
Crystal
bright
Christmas “Presence”
Life’s quintessence
Latin
mass
Merry
Christ-mas!
Amen!
Christmas
Love
Matthew says that Jesus fed five
thousand with five loaves of bread and two fishes after blessing the food; He
walked on the water; Jesus healed the sick. (Matthew 14)
To: Our precious Zachariah Tyler-(Handsome
Z. Tyler---My Hero);
Our
treasured Lauren Victoria-(Little Professor---L.V. “Luvy);
Our
delightful Alexandria Elizabeth-(Curly locks---Lexli Lu);
Our
enchanting Anna Marie-(Blondie Annie Rie---Our “pistol”):
You all are priceless in our heart. The
proclamation of the Bible is: Fear not! Follow Me!
Our prayer is that your gonfalon,
crusade banner, simply be: Faith! Family! Freedom!
Live faith! All goodness is God; in God
all things are possible. Dream without limit, live that reality through the
Father’s authority, Jesus’ blessings, the Holy Spirit Grace. Fear not to dream,
only fear to dream too small. Pursue pure values in God and---Persevere! You
can do anything you decide and you do not ever have to do anything you choose
not to do. Decisions made on Christian values are based in virtue and will
always ring true. You are “in” the world by virtue of birth; you might become
“of” the world by choice. Constant running in pursuit of happiness does not
make a full life; it brings emptiness. Materialism is the fulfillment of vacant
hope; it bears no lasting value. You are virtuous: kind, considerate, loving,
generous. In a word: Holy! Faith be your credo; wear it proudly!
The importance of family is
self-evident. You have a mother and father who love you dearly, a sibling who
adores you, a grandmother who loves you as her own children and me, who wants
to be just like each of you when (if) I ever grow up. Your aunt and uncle and
cousins love you dearly. Our extended family and all your friends see the
goodness within you. Everybody loves you. Your future is assured; your soul
mate awaits; we know you search for someone like yourself; God will send each,
in time. You all have looks, superior intelligence, the world by the tail. Go
out there and take your rightful reward; you deserve it and God wills it. Bless
you!
Freedom is as necessary to this recipe
for happiness as is the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit to the Trinity of the
Deity. Free will is the icing on the cake of life and that dessert is: Oh! So
sweet! If the important decisions are grounded in faith. You are always free to
choose. Do so wisely and the outcome will invariably praise, honor and glorify
God. In my life, everything is simple; do what is right and it all works out.
God will provide.
Finally, love is the ingredient that makes
all of this possible. Ever wonder whether you love someone? If everything you
do is for the benefit of that person, everything, without question, then you
understand true love. Love is pure in its intent. It is given, bestowed. It
requires no reply, no response, no reciprocation, no acceptance. I love people
who do not even know that I exist. Love is mine to give so long as it is given
without condition. God loves you like that. Conditional love is deceitful
narcissism, a poorly designed lie for the grandeur of the perpetrator with no
benefit to the recipient. Love is pure! Always!
“Christmas Love!” to you all, each and
every day of the year! Amen!
Love, Bapa & Nanny-2010
Plus:
Seek---Truth!
Oh! Perfect single yellow rose in
alabaster vase
Glimpsed there idyllic peace
within eternal dream
Blue-green tempest white crest
waves sing life theme
Safe harbor from all evil in
quite soft His Love embrace
Surf modulated soothing lull on
beach fine white powder sand
Cadence rhythmic ebb and flow as
only His sight planned
Strong hand caressing gentle upon
stained-shadowed face
Sun comfort warm in Easter dye
pale blue of heaven above
Sail ocean clouds like wings on
pure white holy Dove
In Glory should I fortune find
His subtle trace
Upon sand dune in palm shade
panoramic vista view
Absorb reflection focus memories
which once I knew
Remember Faith returns His love
in special case
Nature solitude in perfect frame
created scene
Why I be privy honored to enjoy
sublime serene
Quiet slumber reverie through
Father, Son and Spirit Grace
Each breath and time between is
prayer I humbly offer true
Rejoice sweet reverence as others
merely suffer through
His guiding light sits yonder
perch on headland place
Glow slowly seek day’s destiny to
far west sky
Shine sweetly Spirit life in Hope
as creatures try
Emulate that Joseph, Mary, Holy
Infant Family base
Twilight quickly tags spectacular
orange sunset prize
Afore full dark, bright moon in
east does rise
God’s heaven touched in cherished
Freedom pace
Myriad blue-white diamond-studded
sparkle black velvet abyss
Rest for appointed glorious
morning sun, His promised bliss
Savor beauty life, allow not to
become a destination race
In all God’s gain, the pleasure
truly is the chase!
Amen!
Merry Christmas!
Plus:
4 Ole Sam
Nanny pulled a kitchen table chair near
the stove for her husband to sit at; he did so, appreciative of the considerate
gesture and also of the warm comfort. Lexi and Anna quickly claimed a knee and
Lauren stood between them. He undid his hood-tie knowing it might be a while
before he could escape. A wide smile split his face; he loved every minute of
the attention.
“Tell us about Ole Sam, Bapa,” Lauren
began.
“Yeah,” chimed Annie Rie. “Tell us an Ole
Sam story.”
“Come on, Bapa,” coaxed Lexli Lu. “Tell us
the story about Ole Sam.”
“You girls already know about Ole Sam,”
Bapa offered, shaking his head. “You all have met him several times on our
summer outings to Silver Creek. You remember?”
“Not me, Bapa,” came Anna’s objection.
“I’m too young to remember.” She purposely fluttered her long blonde eyelashes
in an unsuccessful effort to feign innocence.
Lexi caught on immediately; they would not
allow Bapa to escape a fine story so easily.
“Oh! I’m too young, too,” she cooed in
obvious duplicitous chicanery.
Bapa laughed at their theatrics; Nanny
beamed at the manner in which these three dear little “ragamuffins” wrapped
their doting grandfather around their little fingers. She loved it.
Bapa gave his wife a sidelong glance and
rolled his eyes, reading her playful mind.
“And, my dear wife, I just wonder where
they learned these female wiles?”
Nanny exaggerated a shrug of her shoulders
as if to say, “Who? Me?”
“What about you, Miss Lauren? My ‘Little
Professor’? Surely you remember?”
Lauren’s eyes were downcast as she weighed
her reply. He had never known her to tell an outright lie---about anything.
Ever! The wheels were turning; he patiently waited.
“Well! Okay. Yeah. I do kind of remember
Ole Sam, the Leprechaun Man.”
“Then,” Bapa teased, “maybe you should
tell the story.” He and Nanny laughed.
“Oh! Bapa!” Lauren said. “Anna and Lexi
are too little to recall much about him. We didn’t see him last summer because
we missed our annual trip. Remember?”
She paused; Bapa nodded.
“Anyway,” his eldest granddaughter
continued, “you tell the very best stories.”
“Yeah!” Came the bobsy twins in practiced
unison.
“Okay,” Bapa relented. “We did miss our
picnic last summer. And,” he added, teasing Anna Marie and Miss Lexi, “these
two are awfully young.”
They all laughed; Lexi and Anna gave each
other looks of dubious consternation.
“Ole Sam showed up here about thirty years
ago. He was first seen in town shortly after the ten-thirty morning train went
through; probably came on a boxcar from the north or east, somewhere. Maybe
Chicago? St. Louis? Kansas City? I never asked and he never said.
“He had an old black and white sheep dog, Mike,
a mix of shepherd and, maybe, setter. Sam wore blue wool pants, well-worn in
the seat and the knees, held up on his skinny frame by a rope chord, pulled
tight at his waist. He had on a faded long sleeved blue shirt, a ragged
checkered sport coat and a derby hat covering shaggy, matted, long red-brown
hair. Looked like he hadn’t shaved or seen a bath in a long time. Might say the
man was a bit rough around the edges.”
Three pair of wide eyes stared unblinkingly
at Bapa.
“Sheriff Daniels called me about a day after Sam
showed. He said that the widow Abernathy reported a fresh baked apple pie had disappeared
from her window sill where she had set it to cool. The law found the empty pie
pan licked clean, alongside this little leprechaun of a man in the city park
under the bandstand. He was fast asleep. Two empty Coke bottles lay by the glass
pie dish; Ole Sam had apparently visited the grocery store, too.”
Bapa smiled, giving a scandalous glance
toward his wife. When she returned his gaze, he said, conspiratorially, “You,
my dear, are familiar with that infamous bandstand? Remember?”
Nanny’s cheeks blushed an ever so slight
pinkish hue at his unprovoked teasing, and in front of the children, too! It
was behind that very wooden structure in the city park on a warm summer night
under a yellow-orange full moon that she had received her first ever romantic
kiss. The pleasant memory caused her to smile; she gave a dismissive wave
toward him, shaking her head.
“It is a very nice monument,” she said,
gesturing to the three grandchildren surrounding him, “testament to a lot of wonderful
things in this blessed life of ours.”
He laughed and said, simply, “Amen! To
that. Dear wife of mine.”
The girls sensed that they had missed some
private joke; Lauren quickly got the story of the Leprechaun man back on track,
ignoring Nanny’s obvious seeming consternation.
“You mean he stole that pie and those
sodas?” She inquired, incredulous.
“Whoa!
Now. Little Lady. All the evidence pointed that way, but, fact is, nobody saw
him steal anything. Couldn’t even prove he was the one who has consumed the
spoils.”
“Spoils?” inquired Lexi, scrunching up her
pretty face in obvious confusion.
“You
mean the food was bad, Bapa?” asked Anna. “Couldn’t the widow Abernathy cook?”
Bapa laughed. “Oh! She could cook well
enough.” He continued, explaining. “‘Spoils’ just means his loot, his prize.
What he got for his trouble.”
“I hope he got thrown in jail for
stealing,” Lauren said, nodding her head in judgment.
“No! ‘Spoils’ means the pie and the sodas
he---uh…liberated,” Bapa explained.
The girls gave one another confused looks;
Nanny came to the rescue.
“Bapa just means Ole Sam took the pie and
Coke and ate and drank it and then fell asleep.”
“Oh!”
Sounded an acceptance of dubious understanding from the attentive trio.
“Then,” Lauren persisted, “why did the
sheriff call you, Bapa?”
Before the old man could reply, Nanny
interrupted. “It seems, dear children, that the whole town is aware that a
certain tough old Papa bear has a kind heart and cannot stand to see anyone in
trouble.” She gave Bapa a stern, yet forgiving, stare; it was one of the
reasons she loved him.
She continued. “And, Sheriff Daniels knew full well what had happened and
that the vagrant didn’t have a penny of money to his name. So, he called Bapa,
knowing that he would take in the stranger, help him get situated and put him
on the right path.”
Bapa continued the narrative. “Daniels
brought him out here and asked me to look after him. We talked a little and I
liked his manner and invited him to stay for supper. He said he’d be obliged
but would accept only if I let him do some chores to pay his way.
“I gave him a bar of homemade lye soap and
pointed him toward the creek. While he cleaned up, Nanny got out some of my old
clothes from way back when I was a lot younger and some thinner. I took them to
the creek and gave them to Ole Sam. I brought him an old razor, too. He looked
downright handsome when he came to the back porch for dinner. He shucked the
old clothes; everything except that dusty old derby hat. He wore it like his
own personal prized trademark. Still hangs in his cabin and he wears it when
he’s home.
“Kept rubbing his old boots on the back of
his pants legs, trying to get some of the dust off. He couldn’t do much about
the deep scuffs and the gash of a hole on the left toe. Nanny gave him a pair
of my old work shoes; they were a little big, but he didn’t complain none. He
ate hearty and had two helpings of dessert. He slept on the hay bales in the
barn loft.
“Next morning, I went out to call him for
breakfast. He met me half way across the back yard with the egg basket full to
the top. He had already fed all the animals, too.”
Bapa got a far-off, pleasant look in his
eyes, as though he were reliving the event.
Finally, he continued. “Sam stayed with us
for a couple of weeks. Worked real hard and knew how to do everything. We
patched the barn roof after a storm and he walked around up there like he was
on flat ground. Said he had served a stint in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy and had
gotten used to heights and unsteady footing, climbing masts and swinging around
on yardarms.
“He left one morning after eating and went
up the mountain; he was gone three days.”
Nanny brought Bapa a cup of tea; he took
several sips and removed his parka, gathering his thoughts before continuing
the story; the tree girls waited patiently.
“When he came back, the old sheep dog,
Mike, wasn’t with him. After a while he said the mutt had died up there on the
mountain and Sam had buried him. He allowed how he had found just the perfect
place for a cabin and had already laid out the corner stones. Asked if he could
borrow an ax so he could fell some trees and build himself a lodging.
“I told him I owed him some money and
pushed some bills toward him, but he shook his head and politely refused. Said
that Nanny and I had treated him real well and that we didn’t owe him anything.
He allowed that our kindness had been payment enough and that he was grateful.”
After another sip of tea, Bapa added, “Ole
Sam has some pride. A man’s kind of pride.
“I gave him an ax and some tools and
loaned him Rufe, my old mule, to carry his supplies up the mountain. He left at
daybreak the next day. Before he broke trail, he looked down at the ground, somewhat
embarrassed, when he asked if I still held some of that cash I had offered him.
When I told him it was still his money, he said to give ten dollars to the
widow Abernathy for the pie and to say that he was powerful sorry that he had
acted so rashly. He added to tell her that it had been the best pie he had ever
eaten. Said to give five dollars to the storekeeper and apologize to him, also.
Then, he said to tell the law that he was sorry for any trouble he might have
caused and that he had paid his debt.” Bapa paused, smiling. “He has some
pride---and…class!”
Then, “I told him I knew the spot he
described for his homestead and that I’d be up to visit after the fall harvest
and that I’d gather the mule then and bring him some winter supplies.”
The girls waited while Bapa finished his
cup.
“And that’s how the Christmas trip got
started?” Lauren wanted to know.
“Was that it, Bapa?” Anna Marie persisted.
“Yeah, Bapa. Was that the beginning of the
yearly trek?” Lexi inquired, proud of her use of the new word.
Bapa laughed. “Christmas trip? Yearly
trek?” He paused. Then, “Wow! Nanny. These girls are pretty advanced in word
usage for their age. That’s quite a vocabulary.”
“Aw, Bapa,” came Lexli Lu, “we go to
school, you know.”
Bapa and Nanny laughed; Lauren and Annie joined
in; Lexi giggled at her own joke.
“Yes,” Bapa said, “and you all sure do learn
well, too.” He tickled Lexi.
Lauren could have corrected her
grandfather’s improper usage of the adverb as she had learned the difference
between “good” and “well” when used in a sentence. The rule was that “well”
referred to one’s health and “good” to one’s ability. She gave Nanny a knowing
glance which was returned with a smile. The child was very intelligent; yet, she
practiced a saintly portion of respect for one so young. There was more to keen
knowledge than any conceited display of erudite intelligence; patience for the
Golden Rule tempered raw learning to allow it to be honed into cutting edge
politeness. These children possessed sterling characteristics and qualities
pointing to greatness; the ingredient necessary to make such lucky people
adorable, sorely lacking in some, was, simply, an innate humble nature.
“So,” Bapa concluded, “that’s the story of
our Ole Sam. He lives up there on the mountain with his two dogs. He hunts and
fishes and does some trapping, tends a garden, keeps chickens and ducks and a
couple of porkers. He cuts and splits firewood for the city folk. In the summer
he comes down and helps with baling hay and other farm chores. It’s a good life
for someone with a temperament like his.”
Nanny detected a hint of forlorn envy in
her husband as he finished his narrative.
“Not
so good as your life?” she intoned, smiling. “You sounded, almost…wistful.”
He stood and hugged her tightly, kissing
her soft cheek.
“There isn’t anybody I would ever trade my
life with.” He looked into her eyes.
“Yes. I know,” she acknowledged, smiling, kissing his cheek.
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