In these freezing, wet days,

we were warmed by being together

feasting and laughing

needing two days to enjoy it all.

We were grateful our youngest was not hurt more than he was falling from a tree in Paradise--oh, the irony of those words.  He has taken a temporary clean up job climbing trees to cut them down in the fire-striped town of Paradise and Magalia where snow is falling.  However somewhere in his moving, he lost his winter coat.  Driving him back to his lodgings at the mission, I made a quick stop by Goodwill before the dark descended to impair my driving.  Again, the irony: someone had beat us there stripping the store clean of coats to give to the homeless  This left our son out in the cold!   Tomorrow's another shopping day.  

Thinking of God's son born under the bitter elements, I found prose I'd begun back in 2017 and wrote...

The glistening stars hung 

Where the babe had tossed them 

to spangle the heavens.

Yet, some were caught twinkling in His eyes.

Little hands reached to pluck the pretties 

from whence they were tucked under a dark sky.

Once he'd flung the glittering hosts from His fingertips,

But now the sparkles dangled out of reach.

Did His cherubic lips pucker?

Did a tear slip down His cold kissed cheek?

Did His tiny hands fist in frustration

Having taken on the form of man as a babe

to lie thus in a lowly manger?

John Wesley wrote in "A Plain Account of Christian Perfection,"

"Lord, arm me with Thy Spirit's might

Since I am call'd by Thy great name.

In Thee my wand'ring thoughts unite,

Of all my works be Thou the aim:

Thy love attend me all my days,

And my sole business be Thy praise."

We live so far below being called by our Father's great name.

May this season twixt Thanksgiving and Christmas

remind us of His great gift to us,

to belong to Him.