Christmas Peace!
Newborn babe in manger lay
Man praise God eternal day
Innocent face sweet spectacle
God’s own Son true miracle
Pure as white fresh-fallen snow
Soul renew through faith restore
Spirit journey Christmas time
Celestial insight love divine
Truthful path never waiver
Eternal light Jesus savior
Creation awesome splendor bright
Christian family loves pure Light
Humble example birthday King
On bended knee mankind bring
Illuminate joyful peaceful earth
Eternity find in Jesus’ birth
Amen!
Christmas Diamonds
Wind-swept pristine frozen white fluff
delicately sculpted into powdery drifts, shaped and designed and, then, refined
to tasteful elegant overhanging crested waves of immaculate beauty,
sparkle-glisten in frigid crispness with captured light focus assimilated by
the random patterns of individual flakes. Each icy lace quite subtly, yet
precisely distinctive, different from all clones, shines brightly in its own
unique manner, twinkling like blue-white crystal stars strewn random upon black
satin midnight dark. True miracle for the Christmas Eve, or, any gifted other.
Interspersed amongst the multitudes of
those who annually celebrate Christmas, that sacred event of the birth of Jesus
Christ, the Son of God made man, a few diamonds shine with the holy light of
Christianity. In the realm of exemplary “Christians”, those identified and
recognized not by their own self-deluded continuous pious profession of
Christ-like through practiced word and performance show, but, rather, clearly
by their holy manner, action, speech, worthy deed, attitude, selfless way of
living, to wit---generous, humble, kind, filled with virtue, faith, hope,
charity, good, even, to a fault…those saintly types who voiceless preach by
living the Golden Rule, even when no one is watching, those rare angel diamonds
sparkle with the very essence of God’s own goodness as light assimilated by
fine cut facets indicative of the shape of virtuosity.
Christians---persons
like…
Parents---who
daily sacrifice so their progeny might have a better life;
Clergy---who
dare preach the gospel accurately in the face of social adversity;
Teachers---who
educate by example, fairness and without favoritism or excuses;
People---young
and old, pure of heart and tender nature who live un-selfishly,
obeying all ten Commandments, not just those
they find convenient
or easy or acceptable…
A lady approaches the century mark, soon
to be one hundred years young; a fine lady, full of Grace; one who smiles
naturally…and, always! And, while certainly not wealthy with silver or gold or
worldly material worth, has garnered little formal education but has been
perpetually kind, considerate and---what? Good? Yes, very good! Truly one of
those special sparkling diamonds, easily recognizable among mankind’s own.
Frail of physical; Herculean of spirit!
Thankfully, the gleam within this
precious stone presently in the guise of woman, shines on, in her children and,
to the future with their progeny. The family cares for this lady in a manner
that allows dignity, offers hope, contentment, happiness for all concerned.
And, to the world, there is a steep price exacted for their sacrifice of time,
love, caring; but, there are no complaints.
Only quiet examples of purity…of love…of
Christians---real life, true, shining Christians!
Christians, like diamonds, Catch the
eye, touch the heart, lighten the soul, inspire the spirit.
That mission is what God meant for them
to do---it is their sacred purpose! Amen!
Merry Christmas!
Christmas-Quiet Memories
Oh! Joyous Season!
Hopeful-happiness does it spell
Oh! Dire Lament! Time-plan thought
might just quell
Snow-tell peach-blush hue outside
house kitchen window pane
Fluff dancing flakes upon wild
wind numbered decades wane
Wafts steam-cloud tendrils above
chipped tea cup warm
Recalling, Granny-glasses fog
with heated emotion-charm
Hot liquid absently stirred as
vacant eyes search far yonder
Pencil-paper lay abandoned while
senior mind does wonder
An errant tear stains a rosy-red
cheek born of lonely stare
A Christmas list seemed so easy
when we be still a pair
The blizzard allows a hollow
space; the hillock cross discloses
Eyes-bleary focus where the
half-life lost now peacefully reposes
Sip of spice; dainty sniffle;
delicate-finger slim writing instrument
Make a list! Important? Hmm? Just
another virtuous increment?
Shatter-gone! Such reverie! “Rain
on my parade?” No such voice!
’Tis Christmas! It’s snowing! I’m
alive! I live! Rejoice! Rejoice!
Yesterday? Enjoyed! Loved!
Laughed! Filed in “Memories” under---Life!
Today? Another blessed chance to
challenge, do good, defeat any evil strife
And? Tomorrow? If? Then? Face it
true, courage live it! Dear husband-wife
With new-found strength, on white
the designed black marks flew
When the youngster-senior took a
rest, to four pages the list had grew
That hot brew tasted sweetness
then, even without sugar stirred in it
Addressed: North Pole! Sealed “Dear Santa” letter-list! And, sent it
Suddenly, love-warmth within
radiated springtime love-power
A red-rose miracle upon far mound
bloomed anachronistic flower
Allow no room for lamented trial
of “any” what might be
Trust! Through His eyes “all”
beauty in life bless-ed see!
Amen? Amen!
Merry Christmas!
Plus:
7 A Tidy Little Encampment
Bapa was dreaming. He was home, snug in
his bed, awake, but with his eyes closed. A strong pine scent soothed his
senses but was out of place in his room. Something was wrong; he could feel it.
Trying to focus on what the problem might be, suddenly, when the light of truth
came upon him, he desperately wanted it to slip back into its bonds. He
silently prayed that God would quell the demons of this nightmare so as to
restore sanity and goodness and all that was right and holy with his world. He
was alone; Nanny was not with him. Fear! Where was she? Terror!
A soft rustling, like cotton fabric
rubbing against a hard object came to his ears from the dimness in the fog of
his confusion. Had he really heard something or was it part of the horrid
dream, his mind playing unkind tricks on him? But, No! There it was again. And
wood smoke; he smelled the acrid odor of burning cedar. Then, he heard the
unmistakable pop and crackle unique to a cedar log as its trapped inner
moisture beads are heated and explode. He was not dreaming, this was no
fearsome nightmare. He was not in his own bed, but he was awake---and…in some piercing,
focused, nagging pain deep within his right shoulder.
“Bapa,” came a
soft, distant, hollow whisper of his name. Too far away. Too far. He wanted to
answer, but fatigue overtook him and he slept; this time he did not dream.
Somewhere in the slumber, in a place between the here and the there, he felt a
coolness on his forehead. Relief!
Suddenly, there was that unmistakable
faint sound once more: fabric scraping against wood. He opened his eyes
slightly, squinting into darkness and against the piercing yellow-orange light
flickering in the distance. It beckoned warmth and comfort, but seemed just a
bit too far away to reach. He moved to stretch, winced with a shocking bolt of
pain in his upper right arm, and moaned slightly. Someone was so close that he
could feel warm breath on his cheek.
Then, again came that haunting, distant,
soft, hushed, vacant, pleading voice.
“Bapa? Can you hear me, now? Are you
awake, yet?” Then, silence.
But, no! He had heard the call; slowly he
recognized the deep timbre of the voice: Z. Tyler!
A slight smile betrayed his consciousness;
he felt the coolness of the compress again.
“Bapa?” the boy repeated obvious relief in
his tone. “Man! You about gave me a heart attack out there.” He laughed,
relieving his obvious tension and worried stress. “You do put on a wild west
rodeo when you set your mind to it,” he teased. Then, “How do you feel?”
“Like…” Bapa croaked but found his throat
too dry to get the words out.
“Here,” Z. Tyler raised his grandfather’s
head slightly, offering a tin cup with cool water in it.
The old man took a swallow, choked a bit,
then tried a little more which went down better.
“Thanks,” he said and laid back. His
pillow was his saddle bags padded with the saddle blanket and pine boughs. He
was lying on a bed of more branches and needles scenting the enclosure with the
aroma of an alpine strewn mountainside in early spring; he enjoyed the
freshness. Looking around as best he could muster without paining his sore
shoulder too severely, Bapa noticed that he was sheltered under a large pine
tree, close to its wide trunk and that the boy had a comforting fire crackling
with an ample supply of additional logs close by. The fire was contained in a
pit fashioned by scooping out sand to cause a slight depression. Stream rocks,
worn smooth from the rushing river water, had been laid to carefully contain
the flames and a large flat stone was sitting atop the walls, serving as a
cooktop. Steam escaped in a spiraling tendril wafting from two cans sitting on
the heated stone above the flames.
“Water for tea and some soup I liberated
from Ole Sam’s supply cache. I didn’t think he’d mind,” Z. Tyler explained,
answering the unasked question. “How do you feel?”
Bapa smiled and winced. “Like yesterdays
used tea bags,” he admitted. Then, “Where are the horses and what time is it
and where are we?”
“The horses are fine, all three of them.
It’s around seven-thirty. We’ve been here about four hours or so.
Your---uh…‘cowboy show’ started about two o’clock or thereabouts. And, we are
in a makeshift shelter on the banks of the Silver Falls River just north of
what used to be Tall Pine beach in a stand of pine and cedar. Only, we need to
come up with a new name for this place, the sand bar is gone. Or, more
correctly, I should say, it has been moved to the other side of the river. The
horses are tethered under a rock shelf outcropping where that old tall pine
used to stand that gave this place its name.” He smiled as Bapa struggled to
comprehend all that his grandson was saying.
“Maybe you ought to go over that scenario
just once more. And, perhaps a bit slower.” He gently touched his head with his
left hand. “I never was none too smart and that fall might have knocked loose
whatever brains I once had. Now, some hot tea and a little of that soup; it
sure smells good and I’m hungry. Then, once again, from the beginning, if you
please. Or, apparently, more correctly, from the end---of a rough trail, that
is.” He chuckled at his own inane joke.
The boy poured him a cup of hot tea and
helped him drink the strong brew, then spoon-fed him some of the canned soup
which Bapa consumed with a ravenous appetite. Just that meek effort seemed to
tire the old man. When he lay back again, Z. Tyler renewed his effort to
explain.
“Just as we came into view of the river,
you turned to say something and…Alacazam!” He snapped his fingers. “You and
Magic disappeared in a cloud of a white snow plume. It was like the bottom fell
out from under the two of you; that turns out to be exactly what did happen.
All I could see was an occasional horse’s rear leg and your black boots,
airborne. Wow! It only lasted a few seconds, but it seemed to take all day. I
just sat and watched, astonished. You disappeared; literally fell off the face
of the earth, right before my eyes. Then, it got real quiet and I couldn’t hear
anything except a slight wind and the subdued roar of the wild river in the
distance.
“I rode up to where your tracks ended and
saw the problem. An eight foot embankment greeted me where you went over. Magic
was already on her feet, seeming a little disoriented, but standing perfectly
still, looking at a pile of snow at the foot of the steep arroyo. That mound of
white fluff turned out to be…you!
“I dismounted and rushed down the slope;
you were unconscious. I checked for broken bones and detected none, so I
cleared the snow off you and visually searched for shelter.
“Those heavy rains this past spring and
summer must have eroded the ground around Tall Pine. Apparently, in one of
those storms, it fell over, having lost its underpinning as the topsoil had
been washed out. Maybe a strong wind contributed to its demise, too. Anyway,
when it fell, the top went into the river and flood water swirled around the
trunk and root ball and ate away what had once been our sand beach. The deluge
caused the river to deposit sand and gravel on the other side of the stream
because the huge fallen tree blocked its normal flow. And, naturally, the river
carved a deep new channel against the bluff where our beach used to be. The
river is down now, so you didn’t fall into the water, it was about forty feet,
or so, farther away.”
The boy stopped his narrative and helped
Bapa drink some more tea; taking a cup for himself, he leaned back against the
tree trunk, added a few stout branches to the toasty fire and continued.
“Tall Pine had been anchored on top of a
buried rock shelf. When the water washed out the dirt, it undercut the
outcropping, making it a natural shelter about a dozen feet deep into the
hillside. That’s where the horses are now, about fifteen feet away. I can hear
them from here.
“I saw this big pine tree and took the ax
and cleared some lower branches so we could get in here for the night; makes a
pretty good shelter. The branches are high and thick enough to keep out the
wind and snow. I scraped the ground clean and built a fire pit. Then, I made
you that bed, dragged and carried you in here as best I could and, then,
unsaddled our mounts, unloaded the pack horse, bringing supplies we could use
into the shelter with us.
“After I got you situated, I chopped some
firewood from trees drifted down from the mountain; then, built a fire. I went
back out and gathered the mounts and thoroughly checked Magic for any damage;
unbelievably, I found that she was fine. She walked and behaved normally; when
I finally got them all secured in that natural shelter and offered them some
food, she dug right in.” Z. Tyler gave the old man a sideways glance and added,
with a hint of jocularity, “She fared a whole lot better than you did.” He
smiled; so did Bapa, slightly.
Then, the boy
paused in his narrative, unsure of how much more he cared to divulge.
“And?” Bapa prompted, sensing that there
was more, wanting to hear the rest of the story.
“Well, when I climbed back up the
embankment to retrieve the horses to lead them down here, I tried to call the
house on my cell phone, but some time had passed and the weather had changed in
a hurry. Clouds moved in and snow started spitting.” He looked dejected, like
he had used bad judgment. “I guess I panicked. I should have called the house
immediately, instead of doing all that other stuff, first.”
“Son,” Bapa said, in as comforting a voice
as he could muster, “you did just fine. I couldn’t have done it any better
myself.” He smiled reassurance; the boy appeared skeptical.
“Really, Z.T.” enforced Bapa, “you did it
all just right. Getting any reception in these hills is challenging in good
weather, that’s why Ole Sam doesn’t have a cell phone.”
The boy eyed his grandfather
surreptitiously; Bapa surmised his skepticism and replied without Z.T. having
to verbalize his query.
“No! Ole Sam doesn’t have electricity to
charge a cell phone; but Nanny and I offered him a portable diesel generator
for emergency use. He refused, of course.”
At last, Z. Tyler flashed that awesome bright
smile; obviously, he felt somewhat better.
“Anyway, I gave the horses some bunch
grass I cut up on the slope, and a bit of grain.”
“Good,” said Bapa, looking at fine snow
sifting through from the branches of the pine tree above his head, the limbs
serving as a temporary roof. The thick, heavy boughs overlapped one another
much like conventional shingles on a house roof and served to keep out most of the
wind and snow. Only scant tendrils of very fine powder filtered through the
natural shelter’s roof.
“I told those little girls it would snow.”
Bapa smiled.
Then, “Tomorrow morning, it should be
clear and you can go up high and call Nanny. Your mom and dad and Becky and
Alex are due in early tomorrow morning for Christmas, so the family can make
its annual trek to town for some last minute shopping. We’ll have the boys
bring up the stock trailer; the road is only about a half mile from here. If the
snow isn’t too deep, they can get in there and then drive the snowmobiles and
pull the wood sled.
“We’ll load the horses in the trailer and
you can drive me home in the truck. Graig and Alex can load up Ole Sam’s
supplies and ferry them up to his place on the snow sled.
“They should be able to get home within a
couple of hours of our arrival,” he concluded.
He paused, hearing snow crunch outside
their makeshift shelter. Bapa held up his left hand toward the boy as Z. Tyler
retrieved the big hunting knife from the tree trunk where he had stuck it for
handy usage. Bapa put his fingers to his lips, cautioning the boy to be silent.
Something was at the edge of their pine
bough shelter and the footfalls did not sound human.
Usually, such a
warning might mean a stray wolf or a nosy coyote; but, with the storm howling,
any wild animals in the area would be holed-up for the duration, out of the
wind and cold. One of the horses might have gotten loose and strayed to the
shelter, smelling the man-scent and becoming curious; that scenario was unlikely
as Z. Tyler would have been very careful in his handling of tethering the mounts
securely under the rock shelf overhang; also, the footfalls seemed too light
for the heavy-footed beasts. Bapa listened, intently; considering
possibilities.
Again, there simply
should not be any wild animals about on a night like this---yet…
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