O Bethlehem, do you know the One you have birthed? Let the earth rejoice; raise her voice in song! For the long-awaited Christ was born of Mary – the very woman the angel blessed. She feeds the King at her breast, as angel choirs sing praise, and a star blazes above you, O little town.
No crown for this babe who is able to save, and will conquer the grave someday
Some people think I am a kind and caring woman. The fact is that I have not chosen the hard roads … the selfless roads … that some I greatly admire, have. It takes someone very special to foster children. It takes someone willing to brace themselves to get their heart ripped out of their chest. Even the possibility of that happening right before Christmas. I’m thankful for those willing to do that. God forgive me, I have never been one of them.
Sam and Ian, just … just, so much admiration. You bring me to tears.
At Christmastime, reflecting on our God, I see a rich and sumptuous show of grace. A story so enthralling bids me laud A baby boy, born in a lowly place.
God simply breathed, and life then came to be. He spoke-spilled stars that move at His command. He fashioned sand and man, and shell and sea, This God who values meek, as well as grand.
So when it came to paying debt of sin, He chose to do the grandest thing of all In such a way that awes me deep within: Majestic use of unforeseen, and small.
A vulnerable newborn was His means, Born of a humble woman in her teens.
“Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign: The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and will call him Immanuel.” ~ Isaiah 7:14
“This is how the birth of Jesus the Messiah came about: His mother Mary was pledged to be married to Joseph, but before they came together, she was found to be pregnant through the Holy Spirit. Because Joseph her husband was faithful to the law, and yet did not want to expose her to public disgrace, he had in mind to divorce her quietly. But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”).” ~ Matthew 1:18-23
“She will bear a son, and you shall call his name Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.” ~ Matthew 1:21
Few know of Sue, the Santa Shrew, and that’s a curious thing in view of all the schmoozing she would do once scooting down each chimney flue.
She’d shoot the breeze with skillful ease in English, Welsh, or Taiwanese, while feasting on her hostess’ cheese. Then right back up the flue she’d squeeze.
‘Round every tree, she’d socialize – she’d dramatize and improvise, and aggrandize, and summarize. Shrew ebullience, epitomized.
As starlit skies turned pinks and golds, Sue’d slip ‘tween Santa’s soft cloak folds and there, she’d dream of each household and all her stories, still untold.
The once-mighty turkey is … slight. There’s not a potato in sight. The gravy’s spread thinner – More snack-like than dinner. The fridge was attacked late last night.
I should first explain that I went 30-plus years with a severe reaction to butter and chocolate. ONLY butter and chocolate. I know, I know … it makes no sense. For 30-plus years, I have had to be ridiculously careful, because even minute amounts wreaked havoc. When my thyroid was fixed, this went away.
THANKSGIVING, 2020
Buttered potatoes, and stuffing with butter. Slather that nut bread (my heart is aflutter!).
No need to ask “is there butter in this?” Now I can happily fill up my dish.
But now that selecting what goes on my plate no longer concerns me, we can’t congregate.
pictured words 