Merry Christmas!

JOY TO THE WORLD

The Lord is come!

I love this song. 

It's such a song of 

celebration, 

of victory, 

of might!

It sings the arrival of our King

and is appropriate at Christmas, 

but something in me begs to sing it at 

Easter as well. 

To herald the arrival 

of our king

on His throne!

I've been surprised this whole advent season

how much my heart has turned to

Easter.

I seem to be having a hard time 

separating the two.

But, do I have to?

Right Here in This Manger

Just after Thanksgiving, I gave my grandson a Fisher Price manger set.  It didn't make sense to wait until Christmas for such a gift.  There were other nativity sets in the house, but this is one that can be handled by little hands – loved and held and even combined with the Fisher Price zoo set. 

In Aidan’s re-enactment of the first Christmas, there were gorillas and bears in addition to the standard cow and sheep.  There was the baby, Jesus, of course, and his earthly father, Joseph, and his mother, Mary, a yet-to-be-named zookeeper, and an angel, conveniently named Mary.  Three wise men traveled a great distance to be there, riding on one camel and two elephants.  I’m pretty sure that Mary - the mother, not the angel - arrived on the zebra, because the donkey was on lookout duty on the top of the stable.

 

This particular donkey, though, is quite musical.  From his perch on the top of the stable, you simply pat his back, and music floats down as “the little Lord Jesus lays down His sweet head.” and “the stars in the sky look down where he lay.”  Perhaps at the direction of the zookeeper, “the cattle are lowing.”  And no doubt, given the sweet sounds from an inquisitive two year old, “the baby awakes.”

Dear Jesus, not just at Christmas time, but all through the year, please:

“Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,

And fit us for heaven to live with thee there.”

May the blessing of the Christ child come to all: barn animal and exotic, human and angelic, child and child-like, as we bow at Jesus’ lowly manger.

Merry Christmas!

Name That Tune

Peace on earth will come to all

We all long for peace.
On earth,
in our workplace,
in our homes.
In our hearts.

If we just follow the light.

The light of the Christmas star
at Christmas,
or the light of Christ,
all year.

So let's give thanks to The Lord above,

Thank you for your son.
Thank you for loving us to that amount of sacrifice.
Thank you that you sent him as a baby
so we could have this time to open
our hearts to that precious one.
Thank you for making Him available
to us at all times.

'Cause Santa Claus comes tonight.

Or that.

Give the Guy a Tissue, Please!

Dominic the donkey has a German hoofed cousin named Rudolph.  You’ve probably heard of the little guy with the perpetual cold.  I’m sure Kleenex with lotion was created with him in mind.  Poor little four footed tike – always being teased for lack of appropriate nose wipes.  My nose would look much the same if I lived at the North Pole.  I could have been famous!!  But I digress…

Unlike Merry’s blog yesterday, I didn’t do any added research into this song.  You see, the words of the song are true:

You’ll go down in his-tory.

And indeed, he has.  Kids today still watch the same documentary of his life that I did – ummm – LOTS of years ago.  Same singing snowman who sounds like Burl Ives – except they don’t catch that connection.  Same lamenting Santa waiting for salvation from a sniffley reindeer.  Again, I digress...

So coming back to the point - the point being Jesus.  I have to admit: Ruddy has little to offer.  Jesus would have shared his lodging with the dear deer, as he did with so many other four legged friends.  Perhaps the Babe would have giggled as He reached out to touch the glowing red ball.  Of course, then the sinuses would have been healed and the nose would have faded to black.  History would have been re-written.  No, strike that - history was re-written when that Babe touched this Earth!  That’s the point of Christmas!

Sorry, Rudolph.  You are a side bar at best – lovable and loved – but not historical.  Hope Santa brings you Kleenex!

Dominic The Italian Christmas Donkey

When Lory and I first discussed this project

many of the usual Christmas Carols

came to our minds.

Lory said, however, they don't *have* to

be church carols. 

Maybe there is something to be found

 in 

Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer

or 

Frosty The Snowman.

Maybe the only one we couldn't work with

would be 

Dominic The Italian Christmas Donkey.

Although, there were 

donkeys at the manger.....

So I have challenged myself 

to find some redeeming qualities

in Dominic.

It will be pretty hard because the first thing

I learned was that 

the studio production of 

the song was financed by the

Gambino crime family. 

Hmm

OK, well, the donkey is helping Santa

because the reindeer can't climb the 

Italian hills.

He's a helpful donkey!

Hmmmm

Apparently there is a no fly 

zone over Italy on Christmas eve?

Also, is 

"Paesans" 

a racial slur these days?

For sure all the "da"s instead of 

"the"s

is some sort

of offensive, right?

Hmmmmm

I think Dominic is a lost cause. 

You got anything, Lory?

O Little Town - The Remix

I’ve lived in the ‘burbs of Chicago for over 30 years now, but in my heart, I’m still a small town girl.  I spent several of my formative years in a little bit of a village, population 199.  Directly across the street out our front door was a corn field:  black dirt with green fuzz in the spring, lush waving stalks in the summer, turning to brown in the fall, and snow covered stubble in the winter.  From that town we moved to a sprawling metropolis with 4000 inhabitants.  Being the preacher’s kid, it was impossible for me to be anonymous.  Everyone knew me and knew my business and had an opinion about me and passed pertinent information on to my parents.

A man walking into town with his VERY pregnant wife riding on a donkey did NOT go unnoticed in the little town of Bethlehem.  Even if his was the only door Joseph knocked on, it wasn’t just the innkeeper who denied them lodging.  People politely nodded and then turned from the small procession, hurrying home to tell friends and family.  If there is one thing I know about small towns, it's that everyone knew about the new inhabitants in the barn at the edge of town before the angels told them.

Of course, to be fair, Bethlehem was overrun with visitors at the time.  It is quite possible that there were other babies born during that census who were also far from their homes.  And even though it isn’t recorded in the Bible, I am confident that Bethlemites brought food, clothing and parenting advice to the young family in days to come.  That is, after all, one of the things that small towns do best.

I’m not trying to judge Bethlehem harshly.  My heart is, after all, a small town heart.  I grew up there.  I am that.  I have spent time in gossip before (hopefully) moving on to action.  I have politely observed and turned my head when I should have offered assistance instead.  I am exactly the kind of person that Christ was born to save.  No, I am the person that He was born to save – one of them, at least.

Happy Birthday, Jesus.

Welcome into this small town heart.