Keeping Watch

Christmas Eve and are we keeping our own Watch for the child to come?

Darlene's Poetical Pursuits

Keeping Watch?

Hands that have not touched soap and water,
perhaps, in weeks.
Black fingernails, broken and chipped
lift to greet a sight
bright, blinding in the heavens—
angels bursting forth in God’s reflected glory.
Eyes reel peeking between calloused fingers,
see blurred a host shouting, singing, speaking
and with awe, stutter “why me, why us, Lord?”
from silent lips.
Ears resonate with words, hear but comprehend?
Intent only on the voices of scattered sheep,
the choruses of heaven invade, echo through
the poor hillside shelters of their lives.

And as the glow dims, it’s a jostling,
“Did yo’ see what I saw?” and “Well, why not
let’s go check it out?”
And the draw to Bethlehem, a wonder
indeed. For it was all as the angel said.
Some poor woman an’ her man, a new infant
wrapped up good and tight
from the cold of night
laying in a…

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Known

Used in church this morning with an alternate ending:
“In wonder, in awe I live mylife, write my poems, play, sing
before Him.”

Darlene's Poetical Pursuits

Known

He knows my name
each letter, each syllable, first, middle, last
He whispers it on the evening breeze,
He croons it in the midnight darkness.
He breathes it into my heart in the morning
His new name for me…
Beloved.

He knows who I am
each cell, each hair, each element
each wayward thought and action
He knows me
from fertilized ovum to this being stumbling
through each long day.
He transforms me through His Spirit
and I become a new creation, His child.

I know His Name only in part—
God, Father, Lord, I Am that I Am, Almighty, Savior…
I sit in wonder, awestruck before Him.

c. Darlene Moore Berg

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Look closely: at the heart of joy is God’s gift to us A son, a Savior. Joyous Noel indeed. God with us. Emmanuel

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The Perfect Christmas Poem…

Darlene's Poetical Pursuits

star lightThe Perfect Christmas Poem—

Writes itself
whispers words to the pen
until the ink flows
onto the white, blank page.

Something about the first breath of God
in dependent human form.
Wordless, the Word cries.
Love, whimpers to be fed.

A song of Peace lifts into the hills
A stable fills with shuffling feet
and Hope meets men
with all their tears and fears.

Stars in the night,
Magi bearing gifts from foreign lnads
receive a gift from God’s own Hand.
The birth, the Life—

It’s all ours: to become
one with His Son
a child of God Almighty.
We cross the threshold of his Kingdom
kneel before his humble throne.

c. Darlene Moore Berg

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Setting Up the Creche

just set up the nativity again for this Christmas season

Darlene's Poetical Pursuits

Setting up the Creche

I think I have it all backwards.
The shepherds are coming in from the East
and the Wise men from the west.
The stable opens up to the south
and is protected from the North winds.

An angel stands at the head of the infant
cradled in the manger,
smiles benignly on the rapt faces
of the new mother and father.
Sheep crowd in to view the babe.

A battered camel and donkey
vie for a place with the ox.
The box on the floor is empty.
The manger scene again set up,
a visual memory of the Christmas story.

I don’t worry that the details
may not be true to life.
Each piece is an earmark to tell a tale.
The star of wonder cast on the night sky
for the magi.
The angel calling the shepherds
to the site of Christ’s birth.

I am…

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And so It Is

And So it Is
“The only dream that lives…”   From ‘Our Dreams’ by Ann Weems
not a house with a perfect floor plan /sited just so /amidst the trees /with forested hills in view/ a rocking chair on a porticoed porch.
Not a job with hours predictable/ the work stimulating and enjoyable/ no late nights, padded paycheck/ smiling, happy co-workers and colleagues.
Not a car, a boat/ not a diamond ring/ not any “thing”
not even a person /husband, wife, friend/ son, daughter/ significant other.
Just—the breath of God/ the gentle inhalation of salvation/ the exhalation of hope, joy/ the beating of Christ’s heart/ within your own chest.

c.Darlene Moore Berg

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A Galilean Storm

It seems the world has had more than its share of storms within this past month.

 

I. Asleep, My Lord?
Fear rocks the boat in waves of disbelief,faith crashes into splinters….and the Lord sleeps.
Bailing doubts that wash unbidden into the keel,we try in vain to tie down vagrant, flapping sails;all our tattered hopes whip free in the ensuing gale.
Fear rocks the boat…and the Lord’s asleep.
Straining at the oars against a head wind,we search for the safety of solid ground.The boat floods in despair’s crescendo waves.
Our Lord sleeps, curled up, eyes closed, innocent…And the boat begins to sink.
In the wreckage of our faith….He sleeps,and when in deepest anguish we shout out to Him: can He still hear us above the roar of the storm?

 

II. “STILL”
The night shatters into sudden, quiet calm.Christ stands in the very center of our lives…The impression of a rope distinctly coiledacross his left cheek. Not asleep.
He knots our fears into absolute silenceand awe….our faces still wet with sea spray.We may not know who commands whom,but we know who is Lord—-the captain of this storm.We know the power of His single word.

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