Christmas is for Children

 

Christmas is for children,

How lucky are we!

For we're all little children

When we let ourselves see

The magic in snowflakes,

And in lights on a tree;

We are children at heart,

And that's what we should be;

 

Every smile that we offer,

Every kindness we share,

Is never too little

To help, to repair,

The hurts and the tears

In this world we all share;

 

No decoration so fine,

No light shining bright,

Can beat an "I'm sorry"

Or a " Me too—It's alright."

These humble words

Have the power to heal,

To lift off the darkness

And let ourselves feel

The joy that will follow

The peace that will flow

When we step up with courage,

And let the pain go;

 

Hear the voice in our hearts,

Where that little child lives,

In the hope of His promise,

The gift that He gives

To the hearts of all children

At Christmas.

 It's harvest time!   Ross and I sat at the window the other night and took in the 8pm show: the combine harvester was in the field taking off the 7 ft. corn stalks; we were going to be getting our unobstructed view of the highway and river again!  It triggered a fun memory of listening to the Wurzles hit, "The Combine Harvester,"  back in the day.  It also took me back to late nights catching turkeys and harvesting veggies in the wee hours, and I offered up a prayer for all of the hard working farmers out there. Now the gleaners have arrived; the haunting sound of myriads of honking geese, circling above and gliding in to the feast—the ultimate local shoppers; It would be nice if they'd pick up a bag of leaves on their way out—they're going for a good price!

I don't know how many of you are members of the 'wide awake at 3am' club, but It struck me that instead of trying to count sheep in those 3am sleepless hours, I'll envision the combine harvester cutting down each of my worries, one by one, reducing them from 7ft. problems to 1 ft manageable stubs. I hope that you all have found strategies for dealing with a problem that is plaguing half the population, especially in these new COVID normal days.  This wee poem came to me at 3am this morning; I hope it will give you a smile—it was pretty insistent that I write it down at the time:   

'Most of my ills I have cured,

The worst I have always survived,

But the very worst ones I endured

Were those that never arrived.'

... from my little Friendship Book

 

Over the Moon!

or: What's sleep got to do with it, got to do with it?

 

I don't know why

I can't sleep anymore,

But I know it's all over

When my toes hit the floor;

My muse thinks that sleeping

Can take a back seat,

must stand there in line

While my worries repeat

Themselves over and over

And over again—

Could they not have come knocking

At a quarter to Ten?

 

I don't know why

I can't sleep at night,

I do love the moon,

But it's shining so bright!

It winks and then gives my eyes

One extra pull;

I stand at the window;

The scene is so still;

In the quiet of midnight,

Its glow settles down,

Painting the landscape

Across field and town

With soft pearly colours

Where dark ones had been;

Touching down in my heart,

There perhaps to begin

To pour peace on my worries,

To quiet their din;

With a nod to my pillow,

I'll try sleep again!

Getting lost has always been one of my fears (often playing a central theme in my dreams) and one that a lot of us I'm sure, share; whether it's trying to find a new destination, or trying to manoeuvre my way through a computer challenge!  Perhaps turning it off and on again might work for both scenarios?

Back in the day, when driving the kids to an appointment or event downtown, the kids always waited for me to say, "I think Uncle Bernie lives around here somewhere," and they would know that we were lost, once again—not seriously, but annoyingly, until I got my bearings back. Whether in the midst of downtown chaos, a leisurely stroll, or just arriving at the top of our stairs, with no particular goal springing to mind, I find that just letting go and laughing will sometimes kick-start my GPS—"Oh, really?!!" my poor knees are saying, "we all know that the poor chicken only crossed the road cause Alexa told her to!"

 

Climbing The Stairs

When I'm losing my bearings,
Forgetting my way,
When my mind gets too busy,
I hear a voice say,
'Take a look round you,
Don't miss what's right there,
There is always a light
At the top of the stairs,'
 
When I've climbed to the top,
And I stand there at last,
I'm sure I'll remember,
When my panting has passed,
What it was that I came for,
It should soon crystallize;
I'm hoping that, surely,
It's not exercise?!
 
Looking out of the window,
I had to concede,
That a change in perspective,
Filled a much deeper need,
A wider horizon,
The tops of the trees,
The sky in its glory,
Was a tonic indeed;
I shall drink it more often,
And let my heart lead.
The next time I'm climbing the stairs.
 

 

Ode To My Refrigerator!

O wondrous white container,

That keeps my veggies fresh,

I've come to pick out something,

But I really must confess

That I haven't got the foggiest

Idea why I came;

While you stand, wide open, patiently,

I must accept the blame;

You know that I'll remember,

After I've closed your door,

I only have to leave the room,

We've been through this before;

As I head across the living room,

I hear you call me back,

"Perhaps you'd like to take your phone?

You've left it on my rack!"

 

I used to have a music box

That played a sunny tune,

Oh, how it used to cheer me up

When scary faces crossed the moon!

When the many scary faces of fear and its angry, unpleasant relatives try to bully their way across my hopeful moon, I try to remember the power of the music box!

I love music boxes, wind chimes, bells, and bird songs—anything that causes the air to vibrate with a bright hopeful sound. That's a love that I've carried with me from childhood, when staying over at Grandma's house provided some wonderful tinkling memories. I've written and posted a poem (attached above) about one of my wonderful Grandma memories that still lives in a special bright spot in my heart.

The key to the music box is never far from our reach; we are given a chance to unleash  hopeful notes each time that we direct a kind thought towards someone. That first note of kindness is all that is needed for a host of smiling vibrations to set out on their journey to the moon and back - How good is that!

By collecting bells of all sizes and materials, I've tried to keep those memories alive. At family get-togethers here, it is a treat and a scramble for the kids to grab one of the bells and call us in to dinner!  I've made a point of passing on some of my tinklers to the grandkids; hopefully, they will feel the love that goes with the bells and surrounds them each time that they ring out their gleeful notes (perhaps sometimes a little loudly!)

Here's a poem that I wrote about a warm tinkling memory from my childhood:

Grandma's Music Box

Up on tiptoe, hands outstretched,

My fingers found the key,

Once,

Then twice,

A final twist—

And the music was set free!

 

I held my ear up close to hear

the magic that came out,

So happy was each tiny note

That gaily jumped about;

 

Then, I quickly scrambled into bed

When Grandma climbed the stairs,

And lay there with the covers up,

All set to say my prayers;

 

I loved the smell

Of Grandma's hair

As she hugged me into bed,

And just before we went to sleep,

I turned to her and said,

 

"Thank you Grandma, you're the best,

You are so good to me;

Do you think, perhaps,

Just one more time,

You could turn the music key?"

 

Grandma's hands

Reached for the key,

The song leaped to her hand,

Once more she was a little girl,

The leader of her band;

 

She kissed my cheek

And gave a wink,

As she smiled at my delight;

She closed her eyes

Till the music stopped,

And then,

Turned out the light.

 

Spring is now officially fourteen days away; someone needs to let the snow suppliers know that they can scale back on the deliveries any time now. I'm looking at four feet of snow in our back yard, and although it is giving us a beautiful, bright, blank page to write on, I don't need to be writing a tome! 

Actually, a blank page may be what we all need right now, with the potential to reassess and to start living life with a new sense of appreciation for the gifts that we have been blessed with. We are all grappling with the knowledge that, as we sit in uneasy comfort, our brothers and sisters in the Ukraine have had their lives torn apart. We wonder what the future holds for us all, and what we can do to help to promote peace.

I believe that peace has to begin within each of us, one moment at a time, one kind thought at a time, building exponentially from kind word to kind word, caring smile to caring smile, one act of forgiveness to total forgiveness of others, and of ourselves. In the words of Desmond Tutu, "Do your little bit of good where you are; it's those little bits of good put together that overwhelm the world." 

Wisdom Springs and Joy Sings!

No one ever lives in complete isolation,
For within each of us,
Wisdom dwells,
Our spirit's dear companion;
Living alongside our human essence,
In quiet contemplation of our desires and
Our efforts to give;

Its sole purpose is to guide us to giving

In constant, selfless ripples;
It is the voice within
That puts a stop on our tongues
When hurtful words prepare to leap forth,
Or when we would voice an untruth;
It asks only for a diet of humility,
And a letting go of earthly ambition;

It is not a solemn companion,

But a joyful spirit;

It is not bound up in pettiness,
But laughingly loves us,
Revels in every smile that we let escape,
Every kind act that we follow through on;

Those actions let it know that it has been welcomed and heeded,

That God, the giver of the gift, indeed dwells here;

We are totally and forever enfolded in His loving embrace,
We are never alone.
 

Solomon's Respect For Wisdom:   "I esteemed her more than sceptres and thrones"

 

 

This message was sent to you from:

Edie Batstone

E-mail:  edie@ediebatstone.ca

Website:   www.ediebatstone.ca

Address:  Box 2167, Prescott, ON,  K0E 1T0

Telephone:  613-925-4835

 

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Charter of Kindness

We are all worthy of love.

We each have the responsibility to let love rule our every action,

We have the right to speak our truths,

We have the responsibility to use words that do no harm

and to listen with respect to others' truths,

We have been given the gift of remembrance,

We have the responsibility to forgive,

We have the right to shelter,

We have the responsibility to contribute to sheltering others,

We have the right to create,

We have the responsibility to encourage others to create,

We have the right to dance,

We have the responsibility to respect others' space,

We have the right to sing our song,

We have the responsibility to listen with receptive hearts

 to the diversity of songs around us,

We have the right to food and water,

We have the responsibility to show gratitude for those gifts

 by sharing them with others,

We have the right to learn,

We have the responsibility to teach the encouraging word,

We have the right to laugh and to cry,

We have the responsibility to dry the tears of others,

We all share the responsibility of healing the soul of the world

With our every individual, precious act of kindness;

In sharing kindness, we will find joy.

 

Make each act a kind one,

And one day you'll see

In the eyes of your child,

The best you can be.

 

'Freely you have received; freely give.' Matt 10:8

 

Time To Do The Dishes!

We all have hopes, and dreams, and wishes,

But, when all is over, said, and done,

Someone has  to wash the dishes;

To shine the pots and add some fun;

 

We all make messes big and small,

From day to day, the chores pile up,

We find a way past troubles tall,   

But worries stain the strongest cup;

 

No one travels through a day

Without a few mistakes;

We all break cups along our way,

Or burn some favourite cakes;

 

Kindness is the glue it takes

To mend those precious stems,

And laughter adds a lustre

To our newly-polished  gems;

 

 So do your dishes, dry them well,

And spread them out again,

Serve up kindness every day,

Keep those worry stains at bay,

And watch your spirit shine,  

 

And let me not take life for granted,

Nor myself too seriously,

Somewhere a dish is being washed,

That needs the laughter

Of a child like me!