Baby Born on Christmas

Follower of Jan Joest of Kalkar, the Adoration of the Christ Child

Lo, the baby born on Christmas~

            Sisters, can you hear the sound?
Angels singing Alleluia,
            angels here and all around.
He is sweet as Heaven’s clover
            meadows in the morning sun
fed by love and living water.
            Feed, O sacred spring, in us
hope that clings at summer’s end
            as petals to the dying rose.
Then we shall sing Alleluia!
            Then shall all God’s creatures know
how the baby came in winter
            to a dark and barren land.
Brothers, can you see the tender
            vine upon the desert sand?
Even as the clouds of death
            cast their shadows o’er the ground,
victorious are life and breath.
            Oh, hear the angel carols now,
Noel! Glory, Alleluia!
            fills the mountains and the sky.
We too sing him Alleluia!
            Sing for him a lullaby.

Underneath the brittle
surface of the lake
creatures keep their vigil.
Soon the land will wake
seeds at rest before their
season has begun,
sleeping until morning,
waiting for the sun.

Life does not surrender
when the dry leaves stung
by the frost recover,
yielding one by one.
When the wind blows bitter
o’er the frozen earth,
life comes new in winter
with the baby’s birth.

We are born anew then,
clean and fresh as morning.
All has been forgiven,
seventy times seven,
long before we seek it.
On the wind, the breath of
grace descends; receive it.
Breathe, and breathe it in.

Lo, the baby born in winter~

            Children, this we celebrate
on Christmas, for his innocence
            is born in us today.

They Will Be Like You

They imitate the way you sneeze and tie your shoes and

cut your food, so please, if for no other reason, eat your

peas and brussels sprouts; and when you hold your head

high, when you scan the sky to find your polestar, they look

up there too, not knowing why, not yet. Your steady

temper teaches them serenity; it readies them to make

their way above the petty and the mean and not get

muddled over seeming versus substance, which is why they

trust that everything is as it needs to be in the reality of

here and now. And so you chart your course on higher

ground, not only for their sake, not just to see the sun

come up and gild the valley till it can’t contain the light; it’s

where the road to paradise begins.

The prophet says: You are beyond forgiven. In the morning

comes the splendid grace that lifts you up, scrapes off the

blemishes, and takes away the sting. And isn’t that (you ask

rhetorically) the Gospel, and the promise kept?—All things

are possible; all souls have wings.

***

This poem is available as a limited-edition print for Mothers' Day.Learn more at/www.zgravweb.net/mothersday.html

Great Big Prayer

Faith in the Grand Scheme of Things

National Geographic

Forgive It First

I've looked every which way at this gift I'm 

giving you, in different modes, from many
vantage points, to find its wrinkles and to iron
them away, repair its flaws and make it
exquisite. And just when it looks smooth and
fine and irreproachable, the light shifts just a
little and it seems an ugly, injured thing, and I
begin again to try to become new.

I cultivate a ... garden ... in a light and sunny
corner....  crazy-frankenstein.com

The wind sweeps over the plains and blows

away the chaff and the brittle weeds and
lingering wisps of dry snow, and for a moment
it is peeled clean of all but new life starting
over. I cultivate a small but fruitful garden. I
plant it in a light and sunny corner and do my
best to keep it lovely and immaculate. It is my
pledge of faith in the grand scheme of things. I
dig and fertilize and sow and place the little I
control at the mercy of a force I can invoke
but not manipulate or modify. I must not even
try. Be the planter and the harvester, so says
the earth. Let God be God.

I create nothing, only express the multitude of
combinations of Creation, summoned,
gathered, surrendered into structure. I'll
never seal the gift; its flaws are invitations to
experience, and they are raw material for unearthly transformation.

What it is right now, I give with my whole
heart, not waiting for perfection; I haven't got
the time or tools to fix it right. Accept, forgive it
first, then sweep away the chaff. Plant fresher
seed and love it into life.

                     ~ Mary Campbell

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Published on the Fellowship in Faith Winter 2012 Website. 

Fellowship in Prayer is a non-profit private operating foundation. We publishSACRED JOURNEY, a multi-faith journal through which readers can explore the spiritual insights and experiences of religious leaders and practitioners around the world. We sponsor and support programs for adults and youth that promote prayer, meditation and service to foster a more just and peaceful world community. We connect people to pray together, exchange ideas and lend each other spiritual support through a global network via the internet.

Playing God

Forgiven

I wondered at another's strength
begrudged her victory
despite the cost
and was ashamed
of being not as strong

I contemplated Jesus on the cross
while I forgot the resurrection
and the lessons: gratitude, compassion
and I walked away from grace, ashamed
of clinging to my body and not
making of it such an offering

I shunned companionship, ashamed
of wanting it—a friend, an intimate
would be too soft a pillow for a
head that ought to bear a crown
of thorns instead—and with such cruel
thoughts, in solitude, I clawed my spirit
even as I prayed for God to spare me
suffering and loss