Frost

I am a photographer wanna-be. If only I had a good camera. Maybe some day...when I have more money for frivilous things like that! In the meantime...here are a few of my little snapshots...trying to capture winter's silent beauty.

Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening
(by Robert Frost)

Whose woods these are I think I know./His house is in the village though;/ He will not see me stopping here/ To watch his woods fill up with snow.


My little horse must think it queer/ To stop without a farmhouse near/ Between the woods and frozen lake/ The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake/ To ask if there is some mistake./ The only other sound's the sweep/ Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep./ But I have promises to keep, / And miles to go before I sleep,/ And miles to go before I sleep.

12 days of Christmas poems...day 12

Sorry for the delay, folks. I don't have internet hook-up at my new place, so right now I am relying on coffeeshop wifi. Enjoy the last of the Christmas series!

Madonna with the Christ Child, Sassoferrato (1609-1685)


Love came down at Christmas
by Christina Rosetti

Love came down at Christmas,
Love all lovely, Love Divine;
Love was born at Christmas;
Star and angels gave the sign.

Worship we the Godhead,
Love Incarnate, Love Divine;
Worship we our Jesus,
But wherewith for sacred sign?

Love shall be our token,
Love be yours and love be mine,
Love to God and all men,
Love for plea and gift and sign.

12 days of Christmas poems...day 11

Day 11

A Christmas Carol

by Phillips Brooks

Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!
Christmas in lands of the fir tree and pine,
Christmas in lands of the palm tree and vine;
Christmas where snow-peaks stand solemn and white,
Christmas where corn-fields lie sunny and bright;
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!

Christmas where children are hopeful and gay,
Christmas where old men are patient and gray;
Christmas where peace, like a dove in its flight,
Broods o'er brave men in the thick of the fight;
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!

For the Christ-child who comes is the Master-of all,
No palace too great and no cottage too small;
The Angels who welcome Him sing from the height,
"In the city of David a King in His might."
Everywhere, everywhere, Christmas to-night!

12 days of Christmas poems...day 10

Our Savior is born! Let us make merry!

Norman Rockwell, 1928

A Christmas Carol

by George Wither

So now is come our joyful feast,
Let every man be jolly;
Each room with ivy leaves is dressed,
And every post with holly.
Though some churls at our mirth repine,
Round your foreheads garlands twine,
Drown sorrow in a cup of wine,
And let us all be merry.

Now all our neighbors' chimnies smoke,
And Christmas blocks are burning;
Their ovens they with baked meats choke,
And all their spits are turning.
Without the door let sorrow lie,
And if for cold it hap to die,
We'll bury it in a Christmas pie,
And evermore be merry.

Now every lad is wondrous trim,
And no man minds his labor;
Our lasses have provided them
A bagpipe and a tabor.
Young men and maids, and girls and boys,
Give life to one another's joys;
And you anon shall by their noise
Perceive that they are merry.

Rank misers now do sparing shun,
Their hall of music soundeth;
And dogs thence with whole shoulders run,
So all things aboundeth.
The country-folk themselves advance,
For crowdy-mutton's come out of France;
And Jack shall pipe and Jill shall dance,
And all the town be merry.

Ned Swatch hath fetched his bands from pawn,
And all his best apparel;
Brisk Nell hath bought a ruff of lawn
With droppings of the barrel.
And those that hardly all the year
Had bread to eat or rags to wear,
Will have both clothes and dainty fare,
And all the day be merry.

Now poor men to the justices
With capons make their errands;
And if they hap to fail of these,
They plague them with their warrants.
But now they feed them with good cheer,
And what they want they take in beer,
For Christmas comes but once a year,
And then they shall be merry.

Good farmers in the country nurse
The poor, that else were undone;
Some landlords spend their money worse,
On lust and pride at London.
There the roisters they do play,
Drab and dice their land away,
Which may be ours another day;
And therefore let's be merry.

The client now his suit forbears,
The prisoner's heart is eased;
The debtor drinks away his cares,
And for the time is pleased.
Though others' purses be more fat,
Why should we pine or grieve at that;
Hang sorrow, care will kill a cat,
And therefore let's be merry.

Hark how the wags abroad do call
Each other forth to rambling;
Anon you'll see them in the hall,
For nuts and apples scrambling;
Hark how the roofs with laughters sound,
Anon they'll think the house goes round;
For they the cellar's depths have found,
And there they will be merry.
The wenches with their wassail-bowls
About the streets are singing;
The boys are come to catch the owls,
The wild mare in is bringing.
Our kitchen boy hath broke his box,
And to the dealing of the ox
Our honest neighbors come by flocks,
And here they will be merry.

Now kings and queens poor sheep-cotes have,
And mate with everybody;
The honest now may play the knave,
And wise men play at noddy.
Some youths will now a mumming go,
Some others play at rowland-hoe,
And twenty other gameboys moe;
Because they will be merry.

Then wherefore in these merry days
Should we, I pray, be duller?
No, let us sing some roundelays
To make our mirth the fuller.
And whilst we thus inspired sing,
Let all the streets with echoes ring;
Woods, and hills, and everything
Bear witness we are merry.

12 days of Christmas poems...day 9

Adoration of the Magi, Rogier van der Weyden

The Magi

by William Butler Yeats

Now as at all times I can see in the mind's eye,

In their stiff, painted clothes, the pale unsatisfied ones

Appear and disappear in the blue depth of the sky

With all their ancient faces like rain-beaten stones,

And all their helms of Silver hovering side by side,

And all their eyes still fixed, hoping to find once more,

Being by Calvary's turbulence unsatisfied,

The uncontrollable mystery on the bestial floor.

Resolutions

This morning I was reflecting on the concept of New Years resolutions and some of my particular goals for the 2011. For many of us, resolutions focus on variations of the themes to be healthier, work out more, dedicate more time to daily prayer, be more organized, spend less money, etc., etc.

Reflecting on my own resolutions immediately led me to wonder, "How will I know that I am truly making progress in these things in tangible ways?"

I think that when we make sweeping resolutions, we are often tempted to simultaneously create unreasonable standards for ourselves. I know for me, whenever I am attempted to improve in certain areas of my life, my biggest struggle is the temptation to continually compare myself to others and the ways that they are doing these things better than I. In my mind, they are being successful at a, b, and c, and I am just lagging so far behind.

In creating resolutions and goals, it is important to also reflect on our personal view of progress and success in these areas of our lives. For example, in regards to health and fitness, does it mean attaining the body size of the models in J. Crew ads? Or does it mean reaching your ideal weight by eating healthy and exercising regularly, and just plain feeling good?

Is it being able to organize your house to spotless perfection like your next door neighbor? Or is it filing a few piles of clutter away, one at a time?

As I reflected on resolutions and changes that I want to make in my life, I recalled this beautiful quote from Mother Teresa:


"We are not called to be successful. We are called to be faithful."

This certainly does not negate the importance of setting high standards for ourselves and always seeking continual conversion in many aspects of our life, whether it is spiritual, physical, emotional, or social.

But it takes the bar, which we often set unattainably high, or ridiculously low, and places it exactly where God wants it to be.

Whether we have already failed at our New Years resolutions on the second day of the New Year, or whether we are finding ourselves overwhelmed at the prospect of keeping up with the Jones'...we can remind ourselves that it isn't success in worldly terms that God calls us to. It is simply faithfulness.

So in 2011, will try to be faithful in all of these little aspects of my life. Even though my successes my be small and hidden to the world, I will seek the peace that comes from striving after faithfulness, one day at a time.

12 days of Christmas (and New Years) poems....day 8

A traditional New Year's ditty...

Auld Lang Syne
By Robert Burns

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne?

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp,
And surely I'll be mine!
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine;
But we've wandered mony a weary fit
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

We twa hae paidled i' the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere,
And gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak a right guid-willie waught

For auld lang syne.

For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.