CHRIST IN WINTER: Reflections on Faith for the Years of Winter… ©
It seems a bit odd to celebrate a day
that signifies only that you started,
not what you did.
Perhaps better to celebrate
the day you felt the absence
of a hand upon the two-wheeled
hope, and knew that you were free,
and did not come close even,
perhaps a little,
to the man carrying the watermelon.
Or why not each year celebrate
the first day you rocked the holy
grandchild and decided
it was worth it to raise
those freedom-stealing children
Maybe you should fete the half-moon
sky that night when your eyes searched
beyond the billion stars
and you felt so little,
and so much at home.
So on this my natal day,
I think I’ll drink my low-fat toast
To “Watermelon Missing
Although the sun is bright,
with hours to go until I see again
into the night-time sky,
I’ll look up far beyond
the billionth star,
and turn my face
I started this blog several years ago, when we followed the grandchildren to the “place of winter,” Iron Mountain, in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula [The UP]. I put that in the sub-title, Reflections on Faith from a Place of Winter for the Years of Winter, where life is defined by winter even in the summer! [This phrase is explained in the post for March 20, 2014.] The grandchildren, though, are grown up, so in May, 2015 we moved “home,” to Bloomington, IN, where we met and married. It’s not a “place of winter,” but we are still in winter years of the life cycle, so I am still trying to understand what it means to be a follower of Christ in winter…
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