in the bleak mid-winter

What can I give Him,
Poor as I am? —
If I were a Shepherd
I would bring a lamb;
If I were a Wise Man
I would do my part, —
Yet what I can I give Him, —
Give my heart. 
- Christina Georgina Rossetti

To my WordPress family: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! May this season of light and joy be filled with peace for you and yours. May your new year be seasoned with adventure, love and contentment.

cloudy christmas days

here’s to
cloudy christmas days
and windy songs
weaving through
the barren trees
can’t sing along
with the howling melodies
i’d rather stay
and be in this
cloudy christmas day

here’s to
cloudy christmas days
you see there’s loss
and grief
a friend in need
the clouds
are all around him now
nothing makes much sense
anyhow
except this
cloudy christmas day

here’s to
cloudy christmas days
when the dark tree
seems to be
the proper choice
i need to give voice
to loss
to mystery
and the agony
that stings a bit more
you never know
what’s in store
on a cloudy
christmas day

so i’ll just feel
this cloudy christmas day
the tears say
it’s ok
i know Eternal Love
has come
and Peace
and Light
i am trusting
through my tears
in the Way
the Truth
the Life
on this
cloudy christmas day

what do i see

what do i see
when i see me
let's see
i suppose i see
what i want to see
and at times i see
what i long to be
at times
i'm such a selfie

self is proud
and can be
so loud
i can push away
by the words i say
those i say i love
why am i that way
if my attitude
or my words hurt you
please forgive me
i hope you can see
a way
to forgive me

i suppose i need
to see through eyes
that are not mine
but belong to the One
who makes me whole
and sees all that makes
me
me

and when i'm known
by the One who knows
all that's inside
i can decide
that i won't hide
anymore

Lord help me see
my wife
and kids
the family
my friends
my neighbor too
and say no to self
and live to serve
Lord help me let go
of me
and be free
to love
to give
to be alive
to others
and die
to
me
and
be
free


a prayer

dear Lord
when i am restless
let the tranquility
of your Spirit
the comfort of your word
the light of your love
be my peace
and still my stirring
when i am anxious
let the power
of your grace
the assurance of your sovereignty
the goodness of your will
warm the frozen fear
i feel inside
release the heart shackles
and settle my thoughts
in the river of your presence
when i am triggered
angry
let your mercy
help me remember
how much is broken in me
let your justice
be the end of my longing
let my heart be open
to you and this world
send me
as your loving healing presence
as i receive your love
and your healing
when i am lost
bring me home
when i am so sad
that light seems a memory
and hope a forgotten song
reorient my mind
reset my spirit
help me see
that the suffering is but a moment
that all i long for
awaits in your house
no more tears
no need of light
or sun
no darkness
thank you
my dear Lord
thank you

summer memories 3

The last time I was at this location was in 1965. I was 4 years old. The location is Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, which served as the site for the 1939-40 and 1964-65 New York World’s Fair. These images are the remains of the New York State Pavilion. The structures have been ignored and deteriorating for years, but recently the New York City Department of Parks and Recreation has embarked on a restoration project. The next summer memories post will be of another famous structure from the 1964-65 World’s Fair. Thanks for stopping by.

summer memories

Fall is making it’s entrance here in the Midwest. Trees are beginning to show off, Costco has had Christmas trees on display for a few weeks now, and the end of the day knocks on our door a lot sooner than it did just a few weeks ago. It has been a busy time for me as well, so this is the first of a few posts from this past summer. We were in New York in August, so, first up, my favorite place: Jones Beach. Thanks for stopping by.

scenes

Scene 1 fades in from black: I’m standing in the doorway of what used to be the bedroom for my two daughters. Eleven months before I said, “Her mother and I do,” at my oldest daughter’s wedding, and like the refrain of a song, I just said the same words at my youngest daughter’s wedding! My oldest son is already married. Three down, one to go. I pull out my phone and capture… this… empty room. I guess I was hoping to capture the conversations, dance parties, tears, Christmas mornings, laughter, prayers… capture all that happened in that room. The phone displays an empty room. But I am filled with gratitude as I remember that grace brought me here and will continue to lead me…home. I am crossing the vast Canyon of Parenthood, which is followed by the great Canyon of Fatherhood and the Canyon of Where Did the Time Go… and I realize that I am at the beginning of that time in my life where I will be remembered a bit less, and less. And that is what will be. And it’s ok. Scene 1 fades to black.

Scene 2 fades in from black. I’m standing in the doorway of what used to be the bedroom for my youngest son. I pull out my phone… you know the rest. Now, the emptiness of the room is a bit more final in my heart. All four of our children (can I still call them children?) are gone. Now I watch our children and their families, and I see them and the 6 little ones that are the new generation in their “rooms” praying, crying, laughing, enjoying dance parties, creating moments to remember and one day say good-bye to… one day let go… one day to try and capture on a phone. And I know that the new generation will forget more than they remember of their papa and nana. And I know that is what must be. And it’s okay. Scene 2 fades to black. One more scene.

Scene 3 fades in from black. I am being held by my mom in an impossibly strong, firm embrace. Impossible because my mom’s 96 year old body appears to be so frail, brittle and fragile. I see her connecting to my dear wife in a hushed conversation filled with memories and love. She can’t really stand up straight anymore. It seems like she is always folding in on herself, like she is ever seeking the fetal position. I tell her, as often as I can, that I love her, and her frail, thin voice tells me the same. My mom is a stranger in this world. She has lived long enough to bury he mom and dad and all of her siblings. The neighborhood is filled with strangers, for all of her friends from the old days have passed as well. She is, in so many ways, alone. Few remember who she is. And as I have had the opportunity to watch her in these late years, I am grateful for all that she has taught me. She has embraced her reality, and it is okay. She has taught me to welcome your emotions and the reality that you are in, but to not let it steal the grace and love that you can, at any moment, give to someone. She is frustrated, but not angry. She is sorrowful, but not bitter. She feels forgotten, but is not resentful. I want so badly to take away all the pain, heartache and struggle that makes up her days and nights. But I can’t. It must be this way. And that is okay. If I could take it away, it would diminish her and also diminish me. It is okay. This scene will fade to black. I am not sure I will be able to navigate that blackness. But, it will be. And that’s okay.