Epiphany

This is one Christmas song I didn't include in my Advent carol series -- but when I got together with my friend Lori before Christmas for our annual caroling "date," we commented on how beautiful and prayerful the words of this song are.  So, since today is Epiphany, in which Western Christianity traditionally celebrates the Magi's visit to see the young Christ Child, I thought I'd share it here. 

As with gladness men of old did the guiding star behold,

As with joy they hailed its light, leading onward, beaming bright,

So, most gracious Lord, may we evermore be led to Thee.

As with joyful steps they sped to that lowly manger bed,

There to bend the knee before Him Whom Heaven and earth adore,

So may we with willing feet ever seek Thy mercy seat.

As they offered gifts most rare at that manger rude and bare,

So may we, with holy joy, pure and free from sin’s alloy,

All our costliest treasures bring, Christ, to Thee, our heavenly King.

I think there are more verses than these, but I like these the best because they compare us to the Wise Men:  just as the Magi followed the star, bowed before Jesus, and offered Him their gifts, so should we follow Jesus, worship Him, and give Him all we have to give.

Is there a Procrastinator of the Year Award? No, but I might get around to inventing one someday ...

Disclaimer:  this post contains nothing profound or inspirational, unless you find "Don't be like me!" profound and inspirational.

Today I set up my wireless printer.  I got it aligned, installed it on my laptop and Allison's laptop, and tested it out; it works great.  It really wasn't that hard.  I'm so proud of myself.

... Except ... I bought this printer in (gulp) APRIL!!!!  Why did I procrastinate so long in setting it up???  Well, it was probably some irrational reason like these (see rational response in parentheses).

- The box looks large and intimidating.  ("The box IS large.  It takes up a lot of space on the dining room floor.  Get the printer set up, and you can get rid of the box!")

- I have to set aside a couple of hours to do it ; what if I'm interrupted in the middle of the process?  ("Well ... the printer probably won't think, 'Harrumph, stood up again -- I'm outa here!' Chances are it will still be there when you come back.")

- Maybe I'll do it wrong.  ("If you follow the step-by-step instructions you probably won't, and if you do, you can probably find a solution online.")

- Aw, for now I'll just use the old printer -- that only means I have to send myself an email with an attachment and open the email and attachment on the desktop computer, which is way slower than my laptop.  ("As Avril Lavigne just sang on the radio, Why'd ya have to go and make things so complic8ed?")

I guess it doesn't matter what my reason was.  The point is, it's set up now, and I feel this overwhelming desire to print a document!

Nah, maybe later.

The Choice

A comment made on yesterday's post by my new blogosphere friend Adriana (check out her blog here:  Classical Quest) , regarding a winter scene reminding her of Narnia, got me thinking about a poem I wrote a couple of years ago.   I talked to a professional poetry editor about this poem and she was not enthusiastic.  But I enjoyed writing it, and I still enjoy reading it.  So while this poem may not be publishable elsewhere, it seems to fit in here, and now. 

Contrary to what you might assume, this poem was NOT inspired by Robert Frost.  It was inspired by a photo that the local TV station showed in their "weather wallpaper" segment (in which viewers send in photos they've taken).  This isn't the picture, but it gives the idea.

The Choice

I stood before the path into the woods.

Its Narnian whiteness beckoned to me, yet

being loath to spoil the smooth expanse of snow

and knowing night was falling dark and fast,

I turned and said, “Another day will do.”

A small decision, hardly thought of till

an early thaw comes, and the snowy trails

turn muddy brown – and I, with wistfulness,

recall that hushed midwinter moment when

I stood before the path into the woods.

I see it still: the long inverted V

of that straight road into the forest deep,

the fenceposts frosted thick with powdered snow.

Bewitching promise of an unwalked trail!

Its Narnian whiteness beckons to me yet.

In retrospect my reasons seem so slight:

excuses not to dare.  Had evening come,

my footprints would have easily led me back

(assuming I had wanted to return).

Being loath to spoil the smooth expanse of snow?

That now seems an especially foolish thought.

Surely the fresh and untouched path desired

that some exploring foot, some questing heart,

would break the surface, plunging forth with joy.

Now, knowing night is falling dark and fast,

I vow to take the path.  So what if that

was this year’s final snowfall?  Then I’ll wait

till winter comes again and draws me in

to that charmed world.  I’ll go, brave-souled and glad,

not turn and say, “Another day will do.”

c Jeannie Prinsen 2011
please do not share or reproduce without author permission

into the winter world

After Advent and Christmas I thought it was time to change my blog background.  I loved that dark red with the candle, but it didn't seem well suited to the post-Christmas period, so I settled on this snow background, which is perfect given all the snow we've had since last week.

I know this is a cliche (one that those people who flock to Florida for any/all of the winter probably just laugh at) -- but it really is nice to live in a place that has four distinct seasons.  I love the promise of spring, the long days of summer, the colourful beauty of fall, and the crispness of winter.  But lately winter has been the wimpiest of the seasons:  last year we had very little snow (although, when we say "Basically we had no winter last year," Allison reminds us that there were three days that the school buses didn't run, which is a good point).

But this winter, before December was even over, we had a huge dumping of the White Stuff.  It's so beautiful!  Today Allison and I took a walk to Tim's.  Although in some places the sidewalk plowing was hit-or-miss (which doesn't bother me as much as it used to when I pushed a stroller), the cold wind and bright sunshine were bracing and exhilarating.  Like another cliche says:  there's no bad weather, only inappropriate clothing.

I know winter can be a season of dread for some people.  It can be confining for those who have trouble getting around, depressing for those who need more light and warmth, and stressful for those who have to do a lot of driving in less-than-ideal conditions.  But it's a beautiful season too.  In his book Let Your Life Speak, Parker Palmer has a chapter on the seasons as metaphor for life's changes, and he writes this about winter:

"In the Upper Midwest, newcomers often receive a classic piece of wintertime advice:  'The winters will drive you crazy until you learn to get out into them.'  Here people spend good money on warm clothing so that they can get outdoors and avoid the 'cabin fever' that comes from huddling fearfully by the fire during the hard-frozen months.  If you live here long, you learn that a daily walk into the winter world will fortify the spirit by taking you boldly to the very heart of the season you fear.

Our inward winters take many forms -- failure, betrayal, depression, death.  But every one of them, in my experience, yields to the same advice:  'The winters will drive you crazy until you learn to get out into them.'  Until we enter boldly into the fears we most want to avoid, those fears will dominate our lives.  But when we walk directly into them -- protected from frostbite by the warm garb of friendship or inner discipline or spiritual guidance -- we can learn what they have to teach us.  Then we discover once again that the cycle of the seasons is trustworthy and life-giving, even in the most dismaying season of all."

the gate of the year

I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year: “Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.”

And he replied:  “Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.”


So I went forth, and finding the Hand of God, trod gladly into the night. And He led me towards the hills and the breaking of day in the lone East.