Second Thoughts ~ A Christmas Memory

Happy Christmas Dear Reader,

In my book Sheetrock on the Road,  I tell many stories about my youth.  Most of those stories are conglomerates or fiction in one way or another.  The story I share tonight is one that happened just as written.  I gift it to you in hopes that you will find a way to open who you are to the possibilities that are real.

Miss Smith’s Second Cry

Sometimes, when you are just acting out of love, you find out that you have power.  The power of which I speak is that over the human heart.   It is the power to move it to places it did not intend to go or perhaps places that the heart did not know existed, but longed for just the same.  I mentioned earlier that Miss Smith cried three times; the first being when I asked her to be my mom, the third when she was forced from our classroom by politics.  Her second cry was all my doing.  I also mentioned earlier that I was in love with Miss Smith and that love and its pure and simple fruit is what brought tears to her eyes and changed the path of my life forever.

As in many of the tales about my youth, most of the events in this one happened when I was on the edge of my eighth year.  The crushing horrors to soon enter my life were not yet upon me and the tutelage of my Grandfather was still strong within me.  Had I known what was up the path I may have refused to go along it any further.  Had I had a choice I would probably not have gone any further at all.

Miss Smith’s second cry was the second to last best moment of my seventh year.  It shaped a part of me into the man who dares to ask you to read his meager scratching.  This singular event echoes still in my heart, mind, and soul. 

The other character in our short vignette is a typewriter.  That typewriter’s name is Deviled Ham.  It got this name during my adolescent angst years during which it was the victim of my very bad and dangerously hammy teenage poetry.

It is an Underwood Leader.  When I inherited it the ribbon was old, the keys stuck, and the carriage return sometimes came off when used.  Made in the early years of World War I, my Great Grandfather used it as a war correspondent in France, England, and eventually Germany.  I wish it could tell me the stories that it once told the first time the Western World tried to undo itself. 

This portable typewriter was gifted to me by my Mother and my Nana as a way to keep me out of mischief.  Had they imagined the mischief that lay ahead due to my writing, they might have burned the Underwood and punished me just on principle.

The Underwood, however, was mine.  I pecked and typed and pawed at it.  Mom showed me about the home row and proper typing but I had no interest in that until nine years later, but that is also a different tale saved for a later volume.  Miss Smith is the one who allowed me to release the true power of the Underwood Leader. 

Just eight short days before Christmas and only one day before Christmas break, we were told to write a Christmas poem.  Miss Smith said that it could be about anything concerning Christmas as long as it was neatly written and grammatically correct.  I was still in love with Miss Smith and ignored everything but my typewriter when I got home.  I would craft the best poem ever. 

My small mind imagined her face as she read the poem.  I could hear her rejoicing at the brilliance of my writing and begging me to come live with her forever.  Frankly, I was the sappiest second grader ever.  I spent four hours writing and typing.  I had no typing paper so I used the striped Blue Horse paper we used in class. 

Feeding the paper in carefully I struggled at first to line up the blued lines with the typing.  I soon realized that both were out of alignment and it would not work.  I typed on.  The Underwood had an old ribbon and was rarely clear.  I typed on striking the keys harder to get a clearer image.  The electricity went out and Mom brought in a candle so I would not be afraid.  I became inspired.  

I crafted 16 lines of pure literary genius in all caps.  It did not scan, the rhyme scheme did not work, and there was no definable tempo.  There is however the heart behind it. I retyped it but still had to XXXX out a word that was misplaced.  The poem was written. 

The next morning, I took my carefully protected sheet and placed it in the “in” basket on her desk.  To our surprise, just after the morning Bible reading, our recitation of the memorized Christmas story, and lunchroom mothers appeared with Christmas party treats and games.  It was not until the last hour of school that Miss Smith grabbed the stack of poems and began, one by one to read them.  It was obvious she was taking a moment to peruse each of them before reading them aloud.  All of them were on Blue Horse paper.  I could tell through the translucency of the paper when she had picked up mine.  It was the only one that was typed.

She paused longer than most before beginning to read.  She took a deep breath and her cheeks reddened.  As she read the first line one tear, then another slipped down her ivory cheeks.  She pressed on and read it with depth of feeling that I had not imagined my words could command.  She looked up at me, and through the gentle rain of tears whispered, “Thank you, Aramis.”  Lightning struck.

I realized in that moment that Miss Smith had been moved by my fumbling words.  Miss Smith was weeping at what she perceived to be beauty.  I had pulled the proverbial sword from the stone and the kingdom of writing became mine to command.  In that moment I knew that being a writer would be an amazing thing.

Years later, after Miss Smith had mostly faded from my mind, my mother gave me a gift.  It is perhaps the finest gift she has ever given me.  It sits on my desk at this moment.  It is a black iron picture frame.  In the frame under the glass is a single sheet of Blue Horse paper.  It has 16 lines of poetry and the date 12/17/67.  There is also a brown stain next to the second stanza.  It is the dried remnants of one of Miss Smith’s tears.

The path ahead held many painful and horrid moments for me.  Miss Smith’s love and kindness allowed me to keep some small footing through the things that evolved in my life over the next years.  I did not really write again until I was in the seventh grade.  By then what I wrote was messy and dark.  I think we will stay with the pleasant for the moment.  Miss Smith deserves her own bit of fame without the shadows that lay ahead for me. 

I am looking at that framed bit of Blue Horse paper and feel a longing to see Miss Smith smile just one more time.  A tear to match hers is in my eye.  I feel the happiness of that second grade me in a way I have not felt it for many years.  The love of that woman and her love of my meager writing set the stage for me to survive the vicious storm brewing on my horizon. 

Here are those lines that were so desperately and badly written by eight-year-old me.

A CANDLE MAKES ME THINK
THE FIRST STAR SO BRIGHT
BECAUSE IT SHINES XXXX
JUST LIKE THAT LIGHT
IT CAME UPON CHRISTMAS NIGHT
IT SHONE, IT SHONE
SO VERY BRIGHT
THAT THREE RICH WISE MEN
CAME THAT NIGHT.

COME YE WISE MEN,
COME, OH COME
BRING NO CANDLE
MY STAR IS BRIGHT
LIKE YOUR CANDLES
COME SEE THE LORD
BORN THIS NIGHT

12/17/68

I love you Miss Smith, wherever you are.  I am forever in your debt for your love, honesty, and encouragement.  If you read this and recognize me, I would love to hear from you.  If we do not meet until the end of all things, I will still have a big hug and the highest regard for you.  You made a difference in many lives including mine.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”
(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Every human story is part of the great story that leads to the Father getting everything back to Good.

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Here are those lines that were so desperately and badly written by eight-year-old me.

Second Thoughts ~ Fourth Sunday of Advent

Happy Christmas Dear Reader,

I am not going to make this very lengthy.  I am more interested in you taking the time to listen to the song.  Give yourself a break from all that is demanding your attention and spend some time pondering the idea that the Father really does wish peace on earth. 

We will talk a great deal this week.  Before it is upon us, let us take a breath, see an angel dancing in the air, find a silent night, and share the wish that Christ has for us to be at peace no matter what else is going on.  I love you, Dear Reader.

The Prince Of Peace – Trans-Siberian Orchestra

In the middle of a forest
There's a clearing by a stream
Where a mother holds her newborn
And the Child begins to dream

And He dreams of hopes unspoken
When the tears of man will cease
And His mother holds Him closer
For He is the Prince of Peace

And the moon is looking downward
Casting shadows through the trees
And the stars are shining brighter
As they whisper what they see

Let the bells ring out these tidings
Let it echo across the land
That a King is born in Bethlehem
And his Kingdom is at hand

Let the world rejoice together
As it looks upon the stars
Knowing every man's our brother
And that every child is ours

Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the newborn King
Peace on Earth and mercy mild
God and sinners reconciled
Joyful all ye nations rise
Join the triumph of the skies
With the heavenly host proclaim
Christ is born in Bethlehem
Hark! the herald angels sing
Glory to the newborn King

In the middle of a forest
There's a clearing by a stream
Where a mother holds her newborn
And the Child begins to dream 

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn
Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.” 
(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Every human story is part of the great story that leads to the Father getting everything back to Good.

Contacts for Aramis Thorn:

#aramisthorn
Support Page on Patreon: www.patreon.com/aramisthorn
Novels: From My Publisher or on Amazon            
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We light the fourth candle for peace.

Carrying Christmas in my Heart ~ Epiphany ~ Closing Thoughts

Happy Christmas and New Year Dear Reader,

Were we to wait until the actual event of the Epiphany relative to Christ’s birth, I would be writing about Christmas for two years or so.  Most scholarship places the visitation of the Magi at two years after the birth of Christ.  I do want to ponder them for a moment as I close out my writing about Christmas for this season.

We do not know their number or when they first began to prepare for their journey to Bethlehem.  Their understanding came from centuries of tracking the movement of the stars and their knowledge of the people of God.  We need to recall that there existed no distinction between astronomy and astrology in the first century.  These men were very powerful in their knowledge and influence in the ancient world. 

Even though the focal point of the Christmas story is Israel, we see that the Father is still working to draw men to the truth in other parts of the world.  The history of the Magi is woven throughout the story of the redemption but we do not see it.  Some of them oppose the Father and some, like the Magi in the Christmas story, sought and honored the truth. 

What we take from this part of the story into this time is the wisdom of seeking Christ always.  To carry Christmas in our hearts we must be constantly seeking Jesus.  We must be faithful in our love and in our following of him.  Later this year my new book on this subject will be available.  To close our Christmas writing time, and to excite you for Christmas yet to come I will give you a snippet.  First, however, I greatly desire to remind you of our purpose in this long series.

Before we put away Christmas until December beacons again, I plan to live out the year carrying Christmas in my heart every day.  Winter will get colder.  Spring will come with the rebirth of life and thoughts of Holy Week.  The summer will carry its heat and leisure where my mind thinks of baseball and beaches.  Autumn will see the slumbering world turn dark and damp again.  In every season, from December to December, I will keep my small pewter Nativity directly in front of me as I write.  I will think Christmas thoughts every day by trying the infuse that day with love, joy, and kindness centered on Jesus and his gift to us. 

You see, Dear Reader, none of the other things that lead to our reclamation are possible without the birth of Christ.  So, the celebration of Christmas is echoed in all the year as we see how the story unfolds.  We can see the heart of Christmas in every season if we determine that we will follow Christ in his desire for us to be loving and good to everyone.  Tomorrow we will ask a question about a statement on many lips.  Today, however, here is one more bit of a tale to remind us that there is always room and time for another Christmas song.

Magi: The Gift Bearers – Prologue – December 2020

As the first stars appear in the eastern sky, Nahor and Terah watch the young men returning from the hunt.  It is clear that the brothers have had a successful venture hunting.  Each carries a fresh kill over his shoulders.  Servants meet them at the edge of the tent and take the game to prepare it for tomorrow’s feast. 

The men of Terah’s family will depart in two days.  They are headed south to Canaan.  The journey will be one-way.  The intent is to settle in the land but they do not yet know where.  Since the death of Haran, the family has been uneased.  The Son and the Messenger Djinn have been here often over the last month.  The Messenger Djinn, Gabriel has been teaching Nahor of a new role in the service of the Son.  Nahor has been designated the first Gift Bearer of the Chaldees.  Gabriel has spent much time at the top of the great tower teaching Nahor about the stars and the stories they have to tell.

They focus on the Ram and the King’s Star.  Gabriel explains why his father and brother must journey away.  Whilst he does the Son spends time with Terah, Abram, and Lot detailing the purpose of their migration.  Gabriel also passes on how important it is for the Gift Bearer to pass on what he knows to his children and to other Chaldeans of good heart.  Gabriel and Nahor descend to join in the last feast with his father, brother, and nephew in Ur. 

So, it is that as the last grains of winter slip through the pinch that the caravan of Abram begins the journey to Canaan.  In the same day and night, the Gift Bearers; the Magi, begin their watch.  For centuries they will pass down their knowledge and gain more wherever they can.  They will be apart from the nation that springs from Abram’s family.  They will also make sure that among his clan are trained Gift Bearers. 

As centuries of sand slip through the pinch, we find the nation that was once a family about to return to the land promised them by the Father.  Even as Thanatos, the Angel of Death begins his walk through Egypt, on a similar spring night, Iscah sends a group of faithful Magi to the East.  They journey to prepare a place for the gifts to be safe.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Contacts for Aramis Thorn:

#aramisthorn

Support Page on Patreon: www.patreon.com/aramisthorn

Novels: From My Publisher or on Amazon          

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Carrying Christmas in my Heart ~ Twelfth Night

Happy Christmas and New Year Dear Reader,

Today I would look at the comedy of Shakespeare, written as entertainment to close the Christmas season and a tragedy hidden within it.  We are almost at the end of our journey where the focus has been on carrying Christmas in our hearts.  After we visit with some dear friends of mine tomorrow, we will move on to other matters, but we are not putting Christmas away this year.  We are going to carry it with us all year.

For now, let us consider the comedy of two siblings shipwrecked, separated, and supposing each other to be dead.  So far, it does not sound comical.  Then Viola disguises herself as a man to navigate the difficulties of nobility in a foreign society.  The tale that ensues is very witty and well-told (not by an idiot).  

The tragedy within the comedy is that someone has to hide where she is just to feel safe.  We create this in others through judgment, hatred, and prejudice.  Our obligation is just the opposite.  Our duty is to meet people where they are and be so filled with the love of Christ that we are able to show them love no matter where they are in the journey.

We do not put Christmas away.  We carry through twelfth night, one hundred and sixth night, and All Hallows Eve by showing our love and joy in Christ to everyone we encounter.  Every situation and circumstance has room for that love in it.  The very tragic ones need it the most.  As I write this Australia is in the midst of terrible expansive brush fires and the Middle East is boiling over; perhaps on the brink of war with The United States.  If there is a time for us to continue to carry hope brought by the Prince of Peace, it is now. 

As we turn the corner to the long dark of winter Dear Reader, let us remember that the light we need we carry with us.  The love we must show is never in short supply.  The world needs it clearly and purely.  There is always time for another Christmas song and I intend to keep singing them.  Please sing with me.

Another Christmas Song – Jethro Tull, Ian Anderson

Hope everybody’s ringing on their own bell, this fine morning.
Hope everyone’s connected to that long-distance phone.
Old man, he’s a mountain.
Old man, he’s an island.
Old man, he’s awaking – says,
“I’m going to call, call all my children home.”

Hope everybody’s dancing to their own drum this fine morning –
the beat of distant Africa or a Polish factory town.
Old man, he’s calling for his supper.
He’s calling for his whiskey.
Calling for his sons and daughters, yeah – calling, calling all his children round.

Sharp ears are tuned in to the drones and chanters warming.
Mist blowing round some headland, somewhere in your memory.
Everyone is from somewhere –
even if you’ve never been there.
So take a minute to remember the part of you, that might be the old man calling me.

How many wars you fighting out there, this Christmas morning?
Maybe it’s always time for another Christmas song.
Old man, he’s asleep now.
Got appointments to keep now.
Dreaming of his sons and daughters and proving, proving that the blood is strong.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Contacts for Aramis Thorn:

#aramisthorn

Support Page on Patreon: www.patreon.com/aramisthorn

Novels: From My Publisher or on Amazon          

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Carrying Christmas in my Heart ~ Ignorance and Want

Happy Christmas and New Year Dear Reader,

Today the Liturgical calendar lists several saints that are venerated.  I want to focus on the actions of Elizabeth Anne Seaton.  She founded the first parochial school for girls in Maryland in 1810.  The orders she established to manage this endeavor, the Sister of Charity also took in poor orphan girls in a time when that was a great need. 

We live in a time where there are still vast numbers of children in need.  This is another area that the Church has mostly relegated to the state when it is not ours to relegate.  Rather, we should be leading the way in caring for the most vulnerable in our society.  We politicize the needs of the weakest in our culture.  If children are starving and homeless and we do nothing, how can we say we are following the one who commanded that we not offend little children?

We cannot blame our church leadership.  If we do not insist that they herald this cause then they may not.  We raise our awareness of this need during the Christmas season but in a couple of days, when the trees are gone and the kettlebells are silent, we will forget that want and need are daily challenges.  We will push aside the truth that the cost of our Vente Latte would feed a hungry child for a day.  It is not that we should not have coffee.  It is that we can buy a cheaper coffee, or make one, and use the surplus for the hungry.

Elizabeth Anne Seaton had a short and troubled life.  She buried two of her own children.  She was determined to spend her life caring for others.  Her aim was to educate and protect orphan girls in a time where neither ventures were popular. I am not saying that we should abandon all that we do and devote our lives to the cause of poor and needy children.  I am suggesting that if we wish to carry Christmas always, Dear Reader, we need to care for the needs of children every day and not just when it is the popular attitude of the season.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Contacts for Aramis Thorn:

Support Page on Patreon: www.patreon.com/aramisthorn

Novels: From My Publisher or on Amazon          

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Carrying Christmas in my Heart ~ The Scandalon

Happy Christmas and New Year Dear Reader,

Sooner or later we begin to see that faith and following come down to some very simple things.  As we move through the Twelve Days of Christmas we come to the simplest and most complex of junctures.  People have tried to secularize Christmas both aggressively and passively.  One cannot.

One can try to minimize or marginalize the presence of Jesus in Christmas but the problem with this is obvious.  The day is called CHRISTmas.  The day is a celebration of Christ.  Much of the world has successfully diminished the celebration down to a day or two.  Christ is no longer the center of the celebration in most homes.  What we must eventually face is the choice of whether we honor and celebrate Jesus or not.

This binary choice leads to a never-ending path of binary choices.  This name, Jesus, changes everything.  We can pretend that it does not but we lie to ourselves in doing so.  We forget that the babe in the manger becomes the Rock that will eventually crush all evil.  He is the stone over which we stumble and must choose our path from that encounter.  He becomes the stone that is our barrier or he becomes the stone that is our foundation and cornerstone. 

We have moved into an era where the name of Jesus is used more as an epithet than a source of hope.  We have done a pitiful job of keeping his name out of the mire due to our actions.  Jesus, however, is unstainable.  He is still the one about whom all the fuss is.  He does not need our acknowledgment to be who he is.

Today we are reminded of the power, splendor, and love embedded in the name of Jesus.  There will come a day, Dear Reader, when everyone will acknowledge this.  It will not be forced.  It will be the natural response to understanding who Jesus is.  We get to choose if this is a new thing or if we are used to it and have the joy of having done so all along. 

Our belief now will become scandalous to many.  We already see that being a Christian is no longer seen and a banner of good in the world.  This is as much our fault as it is those who oppose us.  It is at the heart of why we must become lovingly unoffendable in a world addicted to being offended.  It is why our journey must be under the name of Jesus and not some organization or label.  As we celebrate this season in preparation for the rest of the year, let us remember that we carry the name of Jesus with us.  I must see that as both a great honor and a huge responsibility. 

Scandalon – Michael Card

The seers and the prophets had foretold it long ago

That the long-awaited one would make men stumble

But they were looking for a king to conquer and to kill

Who'd have ever thought He'd be so meek and humble

Chorus

He will be the truth that will offend them one and all

A stone that makes men stumble

And a rock that makes them fall

Many will be broken so that He can make them whole

And many will be crushed and lose their own soul

Along the path of life there lies a stubborn Scandalon

And all who come this way must be offended

To some He is a barrier, To others, He's the way

For all should know the scandal of believing

He will be the truth that will offend them one and all

A stone that makes men stumble

And a rock that makes them fall

Many will be broken so that He can make them whole

And many will be crushed and lose their own soul

It seems today the Scandalon offends no one at all

The image we present can be stepped over

Could it be that we are like the others long ago?

Will we ever learn that all who come must stumble?

He will be the truth that will offend them one and all

A stone that makes men stumble

And a rock that makes them fall

Many will be broken so that He can make them whole

And many will be crushed and lose their own soul

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Contacts for Aramis Thorn:

Support Page on Patreon: www.patreon.com/aramisthorn

Novels: From My Publisher or on Amazon          

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Bookings: aramisthorn@aramisthorn.com

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Carrying Christmas in my Heart ~ Early Church Fathers

Happy Christmas and New Year Dear Reader,

If you are not a regular reader, you may not know that I rarely take a deep dive into theology in this venue.  This does not mean that I do not dive deeply into it for my own benefit and education.  Today the Liturgical Calendar celebrates two of the early Church Fathers, Gregory of Nazianzus and Basil of Caesarea.  Feel free to use the links to read their history if you wish.

What I wish to ponder is not deep theology.  Rather, I want to ponder those who help us fit understanding God into the daily lives we share.  It is possible to get so steeped in the system of our beliefs that we forget that we are dealing with a living God who has two very simple requirements for us.  Everything else about our faith and practice is built on these.  The first is this, we are to love the Father with all of our heart, mind, soul, and strength.  The second is that we are to love our neighbor without exception or expectation. 

If you are a faithful follower of Jesus or if you are just kicking the tires to see if you want to follow him, this is your litmus test.  No matter how a group of followers acts regarding theology, if they do not practice these two foundational truths, they are missing their understanding of the Father somewhere.  My Grandfather used to say, “If you ever find a perfect church, do not join it.  You will ruin it.”  There are no perfect churches.  In fact, their purpose is to help to perfect imperfect people. 

Still, if you look, you can find the local congregations of people who deal in love, grace, kindness, and truth.  They come in all flavors.  Whether you like liturgy or not, loud or soft worship, formality or informality, there is a church that is right for you.  I once attended a church that was a drive-in theatre.  I have attended a church that was an amphitheater on a beach.  The where and the how do not matter nearly as much as the heart of love that the Father requires.

As Christ-followers we are not supposed to be isolated.  We are supposed to come together to care for each other’s needs and share the common joy of our journey home.  I have only been to one church that was all that I wished.  It too had its flaws.  Take the time to get to know your fellow travelers, Dear Reader.  Be thankful for the ones who do the deep work of deep study.  Keep in mind that systematizing anything requires that the heart of it become a part of the system.  The wild, reckless love of the Father has to fit in between the lines.  Hopefully, that is where you will most often find me.

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

(͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Contacts for Aramis Thorn:

Support Page on Patreon: www.patreon.com/aramisthorn

Novels: From My Publisher or on Amazon                   

Web Page:  www.aramisthorn.com

Bookings: aramisthorn@aramisthorn.com

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This BLOG:  http://aramisthorn.blogspot.com/ 

Carrying Christmas in my Heart ~ Let it Be

Happy Christmas and a Joyful New Year Dear Reader,

I have considered often writing a novel about the life of Mary.  I realize that there is a great deal out there already and have not yet found a thread worth following.  I do, however, find great love and respect for her.  This is the day we celebrate her during the Twelve Days of Christmas.

I will not get into a discussion about the high regard she is given by some as it is not discussed biblically.  I would rather see what she teaches us there about faith and following.  I have always wanted to have the instant, obedient faith that Mary shows when Gabriel speaks to her.  It is her answer, short and simple that reveals her character.  “And Mary said, ‘I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your words,’ and the Angel went away from her.”

Once the Messenger Angel, Gabriel has confirmed that her current state is not a hindrance for the Father, she chooses faith over the other obvious challenges.  She will still have to explain things to Joseph, her family, and perhaps the Temple Priests.  In her time, pregnancy before marriage could be a death sentence. 

Still, her response is what draws me.  “I am the Lord’s servant.”  What if our responses are the same all year long?  What if we choose to live each moment with that in our hearts?  I long to do this.  I want it to be instantly my attitude and action.  As I map the first steps of my journey in a new month, year, and decade, my plan is to build on my foundation of love, an attitude to be unoffendable. 

At the core of this is Mary’s attitude.  I am the Lord’s servant.  This means that anything that comes at me has his allowance and that I am to see him in the allowing.  This does not mean that he approves of the evil things that occur.  It does mean that if I am seeking his presence in the instant of the offense, I need not be offended because he is there with me.  My faith in his love for us all is enough.  I may feel anger or sadness at the sin that causes the action or words.  I must, however, stand firm on my foundation of love and become aware of the love Jesus is trying to express to the one seeking to harm or offend me. 

There is nothing that will come into my life where the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are not trying to express love.  If I spend my energy being offended, then I am not looking for the love expressed in the moment.  Further, I am not expressing love either.  If, as I surmise it to be, the narrow way is love in every circumstance, there then can be no room for offense.  This will not be easy but it is where I plan to walk.  Please do not consider this a challenge (wink, wink).  After we reach the Feast of the Epiphany, we will discuss this in earnest.  Until then, I will leave you with my thought that if the Father allows it, then I must let it be as he allows.  My recourse is to find him and his love in the allowing.  Feel free to share with me your thoughts, Dear Reader.  I pray for you that the new year is filled with joy and blessings as we journey together.

Mary’s Song – Petra

Hold that blanket closer Mary dear

All the world waits with you for your day

But for now, the wind is cold and it's drear

And Bethlehem's still so far away

Do you remember the way you felt back then?

Joy and wonder filled your soul and when

The angel slipped away

You knew your life would never be the same

And now you're traveling, traveling on a road to Bethlehem

Wandering thoughts fly away

If you knew the road that lay ahead of Him

Would you break down and cry?

Your child is born to die

Feel that hand of strength upon your own

A husband's love that guides along the way

And as his understanding has grown,

His hopes too are centered on that day

For do you remember the way he looked back then,

Pain and sorrow filled his eyes until when

The angel came to say

The Savior's birth was meant to be this way

And now you're traveling, traveling on a road to Bethlehem

Wandering thoughts fly away

If you knew the road that lay ahead of Him

Would you break down and cry?

Your child is born to die

Think back on that promise you received

For him in whom the prophets long believed

Now belongs to you, you've been chosen too

But He's the One Who's gonna shine

We call His name Jesus, Immanuel

He'll save His people from sin and hell

And of His kingdom, there will be no end

And now you're traveling, traveling on a road to Bethlehem

Wandering thoughts fly away

If you knew the road that lay ahead of Him

Would you break down and cry?

Your child is born to die

Wishing you joy in the journey,

Aramis Thorn

Mat 13:52 So Jesus said to them, "That is why every writer who has become a disciple of Christ’s rule of the universe is like a homeowner. He liberally hands out new and old things from his great treasure store.”

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