dpp 25: diciembre veinticinco

a cali tree

a cali tree

christmas.

the week of flying paper and rolls of tape.

hidden presents surfacing from cupboard depths–

littering areas

falling deeper and deeper into

the tumult of traditions.

the giving effort

more like an exhausting marathon

of colors and things.

standing in pews singing carols–

hymns i grew up with

the words fall from my mouth effortlessly

the meaning lost–stunted

amid the jumble of traditions and mindless repetition.

the reason for this time is close

but surrounded by already full

hearts and minds

it lays listlessly by our swollen organs.

the purpose of the celebration:

a birth of one whom angels announced.

lights dressing the trees

angels sitting magnificently from up top

garlands and boughs adoring hearth and rail

numerous lists and to-dos and shopping–

these hardly seem relative

to a story upon which we base

the fury and arranged decor.

but what about our “joyous strains” (1)

and our “jubilee” (1)?

how are we to

“come and adore on bended knee/Christ the Lord the newborn king” (2)?

the “incarnate deity” (2)?

to give thanks for “sinners reconciled” (1)?

thankfulness.

rejoicing.

coming together for a common theme:

praising the “Lord descending”(3) this season

and worshiping the Lord or Lords–

our Emmanuel.

1. hark the herald angels sing

2. angels we have heard on high

3. angels from the realms of glory

One of my favorite songs this Christmas:

“It Came Upon the Midnight Clear”

It came upon the midnight clear,
That glorious song of old,
From angels bending near the earth,
To touch their harps of gold:
“Peace on the earth, goodwill to men
From heavens all gracious King!”
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Still through the cloven skies they come,
With peaceful wings unfurled;
And still their heavenly music floats
O’er all the weary world:
Above its sad and lowly plains
They bend on hovering wing,
And ever o’er its Babel sounds
The blessed angels sing.

O ye beneath life’s crushing load,
Whose forms are bending low,
Who toil along the climbing way
With painful steps and slow;
Look now, for glad and golden hours
Come swiftly on the wing;
Oh rest beside the weary road
And hear the angels sing.

For lo! the days are hastening on,
By prophets seen of old,
When with the ever-circling years
Shall come the time foretold,
When the new heaven and earth shall own
The Prince of Peace, their King,
And the whole world send back the song
Which now the angels sing.

dpp 23: diciembre veintitrés

spiderman is real. he does exist, but not in new york–actually hollywood. well, to be exact, there was about 20 or so spidermans, and a jack sparrow, cat woman, jules winnfield (his costume was so perfect i actually thought it was jackson), captain america, thor, etc.  therefore, spidermen exist, not a singular spiderman. furthermore, the spidermen wear sneakers and winter gloves–their suits are not seamless. their hollywood habitat is a cross between las vegas, new orleans and underground atlanta. consequently, the few well known places: the dolby theatre and tcl chinese theatre are mashed between baja freshes, pimp couture, glass shops, samurai sword stores, etc. it was not the seediest pocket of the U.S.–but it was not glamorous fantasy of golden days past.

spiderman #22

spiderman #22: grey and angry