Emmanuel

Longfellow's poem: I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day
(written for his son, a soldier, wounded in battle, in the middle of the Civil War.)

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said:
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth he sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"


Ok, some may say this is a shameless plug for a band I love and their new Christmas album...well, so be it.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5AmXynu9ok&feature=related

(One of the you tube videos reports that Longfellow lost both his wife to a fire --true--and his son to a bullet--false. Longfellow's son was injured in the Civil War at the end of November/beginning of Dec, and Longfellow went to nurse him back to health, and wrote the poem...now his son may have been doing poorly, or close to death...but he did not die for several years after this. Though Longfellow's mental anguish at the time was probably no less real, for I'm sure he thought how close his son came to death, and probably feared for it daily before receiving the news of the injury. This history lesson is now concluded; I just thought I'd make you aware if you are looking for the video if the link doesn't copy well) ;)

Casting Crowns just released a new Christmas album. They sing a song, I Heard The Bells On Christmas Day, focusing on the stanzas of Longfellow's poem that are left out of the old Christmas carol. This song really struck me. There have been a lot of things in life that are hard these days, the economy seems to hang over all of our collective heads like Madame Guillotine once hung suspended and greedy for blood. And so many of the families have loved ones serving now in a war; soldiers defending and fighting...and this song speaks to hope to both situations.

(You Tube, and the official Casting Crowns website, also has Mark Hall speaking about the song, and why the group is singing it.) :) Mark Hall, also enjoys Christmas music and listening to it from the day after Thanksgiving to Jan. :)

Thanksgiving is now past, and there is so much to be thankful for. In the stores Christmas has been arriving on the shelves since before Halloween was over. But the music during Christmas is really among my favorite genres.

I bring this up because the music is really being played now, and also because in my readings I came across a notation I had made in Haggai 2:4...the verse has a lot in it, but my note pertains to the Lord's declaration "for I am with you"...this is the most repeated promise in the Bible...it is the meaning of Emmanuel...the reason for the season. God is with us. What a beautiful reason to celebrate.

Our emotions may want to imprison or command us, circumstances may be overwhelming us, things may seem hopeless, but I would urge everyone who would read this to remember God's most repeated promise, 'I am with you', and remember He is not going to be defeated, nor leave us to be. There is reason to hope, to stick with Him, keep the faith and let Him show us His perspective and His protection. He is worthy of trust, we can hunker down with Him, ride out the storm.

I pray to a loving and caring Lord for the hearts of the hurting, those struggling, those despairing, those who are fighting at home or abroad, for the families of our Soldiers, for my friends, for my family, for myself.

And I am confident I am heard, not because of my piety but because of His holiness.

Emmanuel.

Let the celebrations for Christmas begin...not with black Friday but with song.

Possibilities...a chat with Szymborska

This blog is in honor of a great Poetess...Wislawa Szymborska...for those who may not know her, she was a woman who won the Nobel Prize for Literature...she was born in 1923 in Poland.

Her poetry, or at least what I have read, is captivating and speaks of the hardships of life with this undercurrent of hope and endurance, but like every person there are days the hope is harder to grasp. It makes me think and felt heard.

The other day I was flipping through a book I have that is a collection of her works, (ISBN 0156011468) and found the poem, Possibilities, and it struck me how approachable she was. Her life was not one of ease as anyone who is familiar with history would surmise of someone who was born in Poland and grew up during World War II. But as I read this poem I thought what I would write to her...though I'm prefacing now it would not be as eloquent or poetic, but the poet in me knows I would be heard by the poet in her. Of course behind each line is the question...'to what'...but I guess that's half the fun...deciphering the question.

We've all seen those email chains...fill out x questions about yourself and send it on...Wislawa just wrote some of her answers...not all of them, just a selection on one day...who knows if she would have changed them on a different day, or if these were long forming opinions, collections she'd made through life...a cullmination.

But today I want to write her back.

Her poem will appear first, so mine makes sense later. On some things you will see we are friends, on others that our friendship would be deep because of the differences we would accept in the other.

Possibilities

I prefer movies.

I prefer cats.

I prefer the oaks along the Warta.

I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.

I prefer myself liking people

to myself loving mankind.

I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.

I prefer the color green.

I prefer not to maintain

that reason is to blame for everything.

I prefer exceptions.

I prefer to leave early.

I prefer talking to doctors about something else.

I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems

to the absurdity of not writing poems.

I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries

that can be celebrated every day.

I prefer moralists

who promise me nothing.

I prefer cunning kindness to the overtrustful kind.

I prefer the earth in civvies.

I prefer conquered to conquering countries.

I prefer having some reservations.

I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.

I prefer the Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.

I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.

I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.

I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.

I prefer desk drawers.

I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here

to many things I've also left unsaid.

I prefer zeroes on the loose

to those lined up behind a cipher.

I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.

I prefer to knock on wood.

I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility

that existence has its own reason for being.

~

Possibilities...

I prefer books.

I prefer dogs.

I prefer the pines along the Wasatch.

I prefer Dickens to Phil McGraw.

I prefer myself liking people

to myself loving mankind.

I prefer keeping a camera onhand, with plenty of batteries, just in case.

I prefer the color purple.

I prefer not to maintain

that tv is to blame for everything.

I prefer exceptions.

I prefer to leave early.

I prefer talking to doctors about something else.

I prefer the old book bindings, with plenty of room in the ditch.

I prefer the absurdity of writing poems

to the absurdity of not writing poems.

I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries

that can be celebrated every day.

I prefer politicians

who promise me nothing.

I prefer cunning kindness to the overtrustful kind.

I prefer the earth au naturale.

I prefer the yielding to the dogmatically unyielding.

I prefer having some reservations.

I perfer the hell of order to the hell of chaos.

I prefer the Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.

(In fact I would prefer chemistry tables to the newspapers' front pages.)

I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.

I prefer dogs and cats with uncropped tails.

I prefer sincere eyes, since mine speak thus.

I prefer desk drawers.

I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here

to many things I've also left unsaid.

I prefer zeros on the loose

to those absent from my registers.

I prefer the time of stars to the time of cold faced clocks.

I prefer to knock on wood.

I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.

I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility

that existence is a gift from God, and our greatest discovery

is ourselves in Him.