A Visit from St. Nicholas

A Visit from St. Nicholas

Clement Clark Moore

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house  

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;  

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,  

In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;  

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,

While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;  

And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,  

Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap,  

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,  

I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,  

Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.  

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow  

Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,  

When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,  

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,  

I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.  

More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,  

And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!  

On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!  

To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!  

Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"  

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;  

So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,  

With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.  

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof  

The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.

As I drew in my head, and was turning around,  

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.  

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,  

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;  

A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,

And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.  

His eyes—how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!  

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!  

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow  

And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,  

And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;  

He had a broad face and a little round belly,  

That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly.  

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,

And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;  

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  

Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;  

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,  

And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,  

And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;  

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,  

And away they all flew like the down of a thistle,  

But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,

"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night."

It's a week early, but I have something else planned for next Tuesday's poem; however, this poem will always bring back fond childhood memories and gets me in the mood for Christmas.

Shirts and Skins by Jeffrey Luscombe

Though I've had Jeffrey Luscombe's debut novel, Shirts and Skins, for several months I have only recently had the time to finish reading it.  It seemed that each time I picked up the book something would cause me to have to put it down again, but recently with a six hour bus drive for a field trip and my recent cold which has kept me in the bed, I was finally able to finish it. And with all good reads, I wish I hadn't, because I simply want more.

A remarkable debut novel from Jeffrey Luscombe, Shirts and Skins is a compelling series of linked stories of a young man’s coming-out, coming-of-age, and coming-to-terms with his family and fate.

Josh Moore lives with his family on the ‘wrong side’ of Hamilton, a gritty industrial city in southwestern Ontario. As a young boy, Josh plots an escape for a better life far from the steel mills that lined the bay. But fate has other plans and Josh discovers his adult life in Toronto is just as fraught with as many insecurities and missteps as his youth and he soon learns that no matter how far away he might run, he will never be able to leave his hometown behind.

Each time I picked up the book to read, I became engrossed in the life of the main protagonist Joshua Moore.  Each time Josh came close to finding his true self in this novel, my heart would break a little when when his true self found a new hiding place.

Some of us come to find our true selves quickly in life, while others of us take years struggling to find who we really are, if we ever do.  In the snippets of the seminal points in Josh's life you will find yourself.  Did you make the same decisions as Josh or did you choose a different adventure?

Michael Rowe, author of Enter, Night and Other Men's Sons wrote that “Shirts and Skins is a novel that will speak to anyone who has ever felt the inextricable bonds of the past, or felt the long shadow of family and home places as they strive towards the light of wholeness of identity and self-ownership. A first novel deeply felt and skillfully told, by a writer with insight, compassion, and talent to burn.”

Jeffrey Luscombe was born in Hamilton, Ontario Canada. He holds a BA and MA in English from the University of Toronto. He attended The Humber College School for Writers where he was mentored by writers Nino Ricci and Lauren B. Davis. He has had fiction published in Chelsea Station, Tupperware Sandpiper, Zeugma Literary Journal, and filling Station Magazine. In 2010 he was shortlisted for the Prism International Fiction Prize. He was a contributor to the anthology Truth or Dare (Slash Books Inc. 2011). He lives in Toronto with his husband Sean. Shirts and Skins is his first novel. 

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

What a Friend We Have in Jesus

Text by Joseph M. Scriven 

Music by Charles C. Converse 

What a friend we have in Jesus, 

all our sins and griefs to bear! 

What a privilege to carry 

everything to God in prayer! 

O what peace we often forfeit,

O what needless pain we bear, 

all because we do not carry 

everything to God in prayer. 

Have we trials and temptations? 

Is there trouble anywhere? 

We should never be discouraged; 

take it to the Lord in prayer. 

Can we find a friend so faithful 

who will all our sorrows share? 

Jesus knows our every weakness; 

take it to the Lord in prayer. 

Are we weak and heavy laden, 

cumbered with a load of care? 

Precious Savior, still our refuge; 

take it to the Lord in prayer. 

Do thy friends despise, forsake thee? 

Take it to the Lord in prayer! 

In his arms he'll take and shield thee; 

thou wilt find a solace there.

Someone has well penned this statement, "A Christian's practical theology is often his hymnology." Many of us could attest to this truth as we recall some deeply moving experience - perhaps the loss of a dear loved one-and a simple hymn which has been used by the Holy Spirit to minister to our spiritual need. Such a hymn is "What a Friend We Have in Jesus." Though it is not considered to be an example of great literary writing, its simply stated truths have brought solace and comfort to countless numbers of God's people since it was first written in 1857. So relevant to the basic spiritual needs of people are these words that many missionaries state that it is one of the first hymns taught to new converts. The very simplicity of the text and music has been its appeal and strength.

"What a Friend We Have in Jesus" is a Christian hymn originally written by Joseph M. Scriven as a poem in 1855 to comfort his mother who was living in Ireland while he was in Canada. Scriven originally published the poem anonymously, and only received full credit for it in the 1880s. The tune to the hymn was composed by Charles Crozat Converse in 1868.

"What a Friend We Have in Jesus" has long been one of my favorite hymn.  Some songs you just sing in church, but this one truly speaks to your soul and it is something that I believe in living by.  I hope it gives each of you some inspiration today as well.

"Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends." ( John 15:13)

Moment of Zen: Bed Rest

Though not 100 percent better, I think I have finally beaten the comings and goings of the fever.  I'm still terribly congested, but that too is getting better as I am not coughing nearly as much.  Hopefully, bed rest the rest of the weekend will get me better by Monday.

Still Sick

Common Cold

Ogden Nash

Go hang yourself, you old M.D.!

You shall not sneer at me.

Pick up your hat and stethoscope,

Go wash your mouth with laundry soap;

I contemplate a joy exquisite

I'm not paying you for your visit.

I did not call you to be told

My malady is a common cold.

By pounding brow and swollen lip;

By fever's hot and scaly grip;

By those two red redundant eyes

That weep like woeful April skies;

By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;

By handkerchief after handkerchief;

This cold you wave away as naught

Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

Give ear, you scientific fossil!

Here is the genuine Cold Colossal;

The Cold of which researchers dream,

The Perfect Cold, the Cold Supreme.

This honored system humbly holds

The Super-cold to end all colds;

The Cold Crusading for Democracy;

The Führer of the Streptococcracy.

Bacilli swarm within my portals

Such as were ne'er conceived by mortals,

But bred by scientists wise and hoary

In some Olympic laboratory;

Bacteria as large as mice,

With feet of fire and heads of ice

Who never interrupt for slumber

Their stamping elephantine rumba.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!

Ah, yes. And Lincoln was jostled by Booth;

Don Juan was a budding gallant,

And Shakespeare's plays show signs of talent;

The Arctic winter is fairly coolish,

And your diagnosis is fairly foolish.

Oh what a derision history holds

For the man who belittled the Cold of Colds!

Mr. Nash describes very well how I feel right now. This stanza is the best description:

By pounding brow and swollen lip;

By fever's hot and scaly grip;

By those two red redundant eyes

That weep like woeful April skies;

By racking snuffle, snort, and sniff;

By handkerchief after handkerchief;

This cold you wave away as naught

Is the damnedest cold man ever caught!

I'm staying at home today and in bed.  There was no way I could make it to,school today.  I knew that when I left early yesterday.  Though I have not had a flu shot, I do not believe this is the flu.

Sick

I feel like crap.  I have what seems to be a bad head cold, probably due to the drastic changes in temperature here the last few day. I have a low grade fever, which just makes me feel worse. Hopefully I will get better soon.

LGBT Teens Struggle In Rural Areas

There are certain times when people conduct research, and you just have to think: was this really necessary? didn't we know this already? this is the case with a new report from GLSEN.  Apparently, they have found that LGBT students living in rural areas are considerably more likely to feel unsafe in their respective academic environments than their urban counterparts, according to this new report.

Produced by the Gay, Lesbian & Straight Education Network (GLSEN), "Strengths and Silences: The Experiences of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Students in Rural and Small Town Schools" documents the experiences of more than 2,300 LGBT students attending schools in rural U.S. regions, using data collected from the 2011 National School Climate Survey.

The report states that only 13 percent of rural LGBT students reported that school personnel always intervened or most of the time when they heard anti-gay remarks. A mere 27 percent of students reported having access to a gay-straight alliance at school, compared to 53 percent of urban students. According to the report (as reported in the Huffington Post), "Perhaps not surprising but nonetheless troubling, rural LGBT students who experienced high levels of victimization were less likely to plan to attend college than those who who experienced less."  I'm not so sure that I can agree with this last bit of data, at least not from my personal experience.  LGBT youth, whom I know, are more likely to attend college and be more successful than their heterosexual counterparts.  Most LGBT youth perceive it as their way out of the rural area where they grew up. I know I did, and so have a fair number of my students.  Some, like myself, end up back in a rural setting, but we do so for a variety of reasons, one of which is to make it better for LGBT youth of today.

Calling the study "the first in-depth look" at the challenges faced by LGBT teens in rural areas, GLSEN Executive Director Dr. Eliza Byard said in an email statement, "These students are frequently the most isolated -- both physically and in terms of access to critical resources and support -- and our findings require us to both honor their resilience and respond to their needs." I don't doubt that rural LGBT youths are more troubled, largely because of the Christian fundamentalist and conservative attitudes that are so pervasive in rural America.  However, I think it often is a catalyst for them to strive to do better things.  I hope that one day it will be easier for LGBT youths thought the world, but it will take time and some hard work to change attitudes.

Karma

Karma

by Edwin Arlington Robinson

Christmas was in the air and all was well

With him, but for a few confusing flaws

In divers of God's images. Because

A friend of his would neither buy nor sell,

Was he to answer for the axe that fell?

He pondered; and the reason for it was,

Partly, a slowly freezing Santa Claus

Upon the corner, with his beard and bell.

Acknowledging an improvident surprise,

He magnified a fancy that he wished

The friend whom he had wrecked were here again.

Not sure of that, he found a compromise;

And from the fulness of his heart he fished

A dime for Jesus who had died for men.

Edwin Arlington Robinson

On December 22, 1869, Edwin Arlington Robinson was born in Head Tide, Maine (the same year as W. B. Yeats). His family moved to Gardiner, Maine, in 1870, which renamed "Tilbury Town," became the backdrop for many of Robinson's poems. Robinson described his childhood as stark and unhappy; he once wrote in a letter to Amy Lowell that he remembered wondering why he had been born at the age of six. After high school, Robinson spent two years studying at Harvard University as a special student and his first poems were published in the Harvard Advocate.
Robinson privately printed and released his first volume of poetry, The Torrent and the Night Before, in 1896 at his own expense; this collection was extensively revised and published in 1897 as The Children of the Night. Unable to make a living by writing, he got a job as an inspector for the New York City subway system. In 1902 he published Captain Craig and Other Poems. This work received little attention until President Theodore Roosevelt wrote a magazine article praising it and Robinson. Roosevelt also offered Robinson a sinecure in a U.S. Customs House, a job he held from 1905 to 1910. Robinson dedicated his next work, The Town Down the River (1910), to Roosevelt.
Robinson's first major success was The Man Against the Sky (1916). He also composed a trilogy based on Arthurian legends: Merlin (1917),Lancelot (1920), and Tristram (1927), which won a Pulitzer Prize in 1928. Robinson was also awarded a Pulitzer Prize for his Collected Poems (1921) in 1922 and The Man Who Died Twice (1924) in 1925. For the last twenty-five years of his life, Robinson spent his summers at the MacDowell Colony of artists and musicians in Peterborough, New Hampshire. Robinson never married and led a notoriously solitary lifestyle. He died in New York City on April 6, 1935.

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So True...

What the World Needs Now...Is Patience

"Patience is a virtue." We're all familiar with that cliché, and many of us know that patience is listed by Paul in Galatians 5:22-23, But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there is no law. So there's no disputing that Christians ought to be patient. But as with most of the virtues, the biblical writers assume that we know what patience is and don't give an explicit definition. But do we? Could you define patience if you were asked? And, to make things more tricky, could you do so without simply citing examples of patience? Starting with the basic definition of patience as "waiting without complaint,"' we will address some key questions. Why is patience a virtue? What are the different varieties of patience? Why is patience so difficult at times?

When defined as "waiting without complaint," patience might seem to be a morally insignificant trait. What's so virtuous about not complaining? In itself, not complaining carries no particular virtue. Suppose a person awaits the arrival of a friend from out of town, and he spends the time happily reading or watching television. We wouldn't say that, simply because he's not complaining, he exhibits patience in this case. Something else must be required to make one's lack of complaint virtuous. That something is discomfort. It's because a circumstance is uncomfortable for someone that we find her refusal to complain remarkable and thus regard him as patient.  So to improve the initial definition above, to be patient is to endure discomfort without complaint. This calls into play some other virtues, specifically, self-control, humility, and generosity. That is, patience is not a fundamental virtue so much as a complex of other virtues.

What are the different contexts in which patience is demonstrated? One way to distinguish types of patience is based upon the nature of the discomfort involved. The following threefold distinction can be made: first is the patience needed when facing a nuisance of some kind. A person or a set of circumstances really irritates you, and you'd love to complain about it, but you hold your tongue, knowing that such a grievance would be petty or simply compound the problem. That person at the office who is so insufferably annoying doesn't, after all, mean to pester you. And what good will it do to moan about those potholes on your street? So you quietly endure these things. Did you know you were being virtuous in doing so?

A second type of patience is called for when facing boredom. Those who fall into a rut at work or at home often experience discomfort over the uneventful routine. To those who don't struggle with boredom, it might seem absurd to suggest it can be a serious trial. But those who endure the plague of drab routine without complaint exhibit the virtue of patience.

A third type of patience is the most serious and significant. It is the patience required when one suffers in some way, either physically or psychologically. If you're struggling with some disease or mental illness, then patience is required of you. Or if you must assist someone else who suffers, a family member or friend, then you are called upon to be patient. Whether you bear the burden of affliction directly or indirectly, your challenge is to endure that discomfort. This doesn't mean you shouldn't cry out in your distress. Scripture, in fact, advises us to do just that, so it's appropriate because the degree of discomfort in some situations warrants complaint. But this raises some important questions: What is a complaint? And which complaints are worthy?

To complain is to make known one's irritation or frustration about some matter. This doesn't necessarily imply that one says anything out loud. Usually we complain by speaking directly about the circumstance that bothers us. But we also complain in nonverbal ways, with a sigh, a huff, a shake of the head, or a roll of the eyes. Many of us are quite expert at communicating our irritation in subtle ways to those closest to us, through means that most people wouldn't recognize as complaining. But our target complainee (the person we complain to) gets the message, and that's all that matters.

From a personal standpoint, I don't know which is more difficult—exercising patience with God or other human beings. Both can be tremendous challenges, and none of us have perfected the art of being patient with each other or with God. I, in fact, become impatient with myself (a potential third category worth considering) because I struggle in being patient with other people and with God.

It's been said that nothing teaches like experience. To some degree this is true of the virtues. Pain and suffering teach us endurance and empathy. The experience of mercy and forgiveness inclines us to be more merciful and forgiving. We gain moral maturity each day precisely because each day brings some difficulty that we must overcome. Like it or not, we persevere, and we are morally the better for it. This is why James tells us to "consider it pure joy … whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything" (James 1:2-4). The Stoic philosopher Seneca echoed this theme, noting the moral value of adversity:

Pampered bodies grow sluggish through sloth; not work but movement and their own weight exhausts them. Prosperity unbruised cannot endure a single blow, but a man who has been at a constant feud with misfortunes acquires skin calloused by suffering; he yields to no evil and even if he stumbles carries the fight on upon his knee.

Misfortunes are designed to build virtue in us, and among the virtues gained through difficulty is patience. That family member or work associate who annoys you is God's gift to you to build your patience. If you're stuck with a job you don't like, and you can't find any other work, then God is building your patience. Each nuisance, long wait, and affliction, every mosquito bite, traffic jam, and body ache in the life of the Christian raises his threshold of tolerance ever so much. Even tedious sermons and difficult reading (perhaps including what you are enduring right now!) can make you a more patient person.

Especially during the holiday season, we need patience.  Whether it is the long lines at stores, the crowds of people who always seem to be in the way when you are most in a hurry, the holiday traffic, or your family at a holiday gathering, we need patience to get us through.  Patience is a virtue.  I have struggled with it in the past, but have largely become a more patient person, and it makes life much less frustrating.