"LET ALL MORTAL FLESH KEEP SILENT"

 

The world begins in a humble bed

Love is given, a baby conceived, a baby born

We nurse it, tickle it, count its toes

So it has always been

 

Maybe a manger, maybe a bed

Maybe a child of God, maybe God Himself

 

Women become mothers in their beds

Men become fathers

Both touching and touched

A time of heightened vigilance

 

A bed is where we cry or hide under the covers

We gossip in bed:  sleepovers, lovers, marriages

We read

We drink our tea and watch TV

I kissed my mother goodby in her bed

My father too

And you? 

And even my son

Whom I cannot write about without being there

In the room at the bed 

With God at the bed, kneeling, yes He too

 

In our beds we wake with sorrow some days or years

I may dream of the train I hear 

Whose wheels could save me from despair

(Or wake with joy, a grandchild near)

 

Let my world end while I sleep, we pray

In a soft warm bed where body on body we were conceived  

Let our souls outlive our mortal flesh as is promised 

And enter heaven from this bed 

Let all mortal flesh keep silence

As the darkness clears away 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHRISTMAS WAS PERFECT

 CHRISTMAS was perfect.  How can that be?  Did everyone get what they wanted?  Maybe not, but we sang carols.  Was everyone on time for supper?  Maybe not, but we prayed for those with less than we, for those without shelter or a home country, for those incarcerated for a crime or not.  

Did everyone refrain from arguing?  Yes, in fact, we did.  We love each other, we love our communities, we love our country.  We had nothing to argue about.  Did we find sustenance from our churches?  Yes we did.  My husband and I attended the local Catholic church with family.  The priest prayed for the safety of immigrants, for food security, for freedom to speak our hearts in this time of great crisis.  He prayed for our country and our democracy.  He was bold.

So yes, Christmas was perfect.  The Christ child was born again.  We too, if we cared to, were born again with him.  He was born in a manger because Mary and Joseph were going to be registered so that all the world could be taxed.   Caesar Augustus wanted money. 

Christmas was perfect because it always is.  Whether we are sick or confused or under siege, whether a baby is born again with Herod at the helm, with only shepherds to follow the star, whether we're not sure what year it is:  1968, 1973, 200l, 2021--Christmas says, "Come and behold Him, born the King of Angels."

AMEN 

 

FAVORITE PHOTOS, FAVORITE MEMORIES

CHRISTMAS is here and so are the winter cardinals.  They do not migrate.  They shelter in the branches of cedar, fir and pine.  A cardinal brightens the dreariest day.  A fine sketch I ran across and kept. I wish I could draw!

   

 With grandchildren, we made Christmas cookies today, homemade sugar cookies with powdered sugar icing.  Trees and angels and stars, Santas and ornaments and sleighs.  We ate a pile before the afternoon was over.  Full of sugar and love. Fun every year.

These holly berries out my door are sought after by every robin in the woods.  They check for days waiting for that perfect ripeness.  I wait with them. When they detect it, the robins cover the trees, fluttering, diving, acrobating and feasting.  Soon only prickly leaves remain until pollination in spring when the new green berries emerge to ripen again midwinter.  A lovely cycle. 
 

This is how I want to feel.  A winter cold, a disappointment, no matter if it is well with my soul.  Do you not agree? I was in hospital for a few days recently.  My body needed such attention, enough to remind me that we are not bodies with souls, we are souls with bodies. 

Have you been to the National Cathedral in Washington, DC?  Many have.  Last December we went to a performance of Handel's The Messiah here.  This year I was in hospital and missed our local performance.  Today I listened to it in my car as I drove, well-recovered now. There are so many churches in the world to visit.  Places to light candles and pray.  To feel a part of the 2,000 year-old Christian faith. 

Don't you love the light of flickering candles during our long nights now?  The winter solstice is just days away, shortest day, longest night.  This is a small collection of my candles, making the darkness a place of comfort, as it should be. 

I grew up here, in a drafty old house in Missouri where we had long winters and heavy snowfalls.  The house was built in 1904 and still looks the same.  I check it out when we go back to St. Louis, which we did in early November. A coal furnace my dad converted to gas.  Hills to sleigh ride, school even during blizzards.  We all have childhood winter memories.  I loved this house. 

This is the woods where we live today on a winter morning with the sun just rising.  The day will be overcast.  Nothing is more beautiful than a woods in winter, sculptural, clean and fresh.  It's worth going out of our way to see one.  If it's snowing, the snow absorbs sound and creates a blessed silence. 

Above is a picture of the Loretto Chapel in Santa Fe, New Mexico that we visited early last spring.  Below is the famous staircase of 33 steps, two 360 degree turns and no central support 

Maybe I will do a Part II later.  If you have time, check your own photos, even those years old, for your favorites and the memories they hold.  Thank you for looking at mine. 

Happy Advent, Happy Hanukkah and Merry Christmas.  Holding all dear, Nina Naomi 

DECEMBER DARKNESS 2025

  

For darkness covers America.

Children go hungry while pedophiles feast. 

Brown neighbors disappear like Christians sent to the lions 

For the pleasure of Emperor Nero 

Remembered only for his tyranny and extravagance. 

Did Nero have a Golden Ballroom?  Ah, yes he too loved gold. 

 

Darkness covers America too when the sun sinks low.

So the light of the star pointing the way 

To the newborn awake in the hay beams brighter, sharper. 

The mid-winter dark that we savor 

As we keep the rituals that soothe our souls.

As we light the first candle on the Advent Wreath

And decorate our homes with red and green, berries and wreaths.

The candles light the dark, week by week, one at a time. 

We light the second, then the third.  We set out the creche. 

We light the fourth. The church is full of light in darkness.

Our homes glow with treasured decorations,

Vintage baubles of mercury glass thin and shiny, just a few.

 

Light in the darkness that covers America.

Light in the people who pray for survivors and feed the hungry.

Light shines through the darkness 

When we don't look away, don't normalize sin or placate the tyrant.

Did we ever need Advent more?  

Was there ever a year when the choice was so deep, the lines so heavy?

Call the children to the table, say a prayer, eat your fill 

And sleep in warm beds.  

There is no moral, only truth.