I’ve enjoyed the very customized compilations on other blogs, of images and stories from the year just behind us. In attempting my own collection, I found it hard to choose just one picture from each month, of those already in my blog files. But as the year went…
In January, this fellow exercised himself very impressively to get at my suet feeder:
In February, I received a Valentine cookie gift from Colorado grandchildren. ❤
In March, my potted tarragon sprang up:
In April, a hike to the beach with family:
In May, our book group drank goat milk and ate goat cheese (yes, and pizza) while discussing Heidi:
In June, my garden bathed in the sunshine:
In July, I watched the rain from the porch of Kate’s Washington, D.C. home:
In August, I continued my (seeded) sourdough experiments:
In September, I played with my great-granddaughter at her uncle’s wedding:
In October, I went exploring in the woods with Pippin’s family:
In November, the zinnias kept blooming and blooming…
And in the last month of the year, my soul was filled by the Christ Child:
Maria Horvath (blog now inactive) posted this song, scripture and video together many years ago:
We begin this month’s look at the different forms of love with one of the most thought-provoking statements ever made about love.
In the Sermon on the Mount, Christ tells his followers, “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be sons of your Father who is in heaven; for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good, and send rain on the just and on the unjust. For if you love those who love you, what reward have you? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you salute only your brethren, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the Gentiles do the same? You, therefore, must be perfect, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” ~ Matthew 5:43-48
The lyrics below tell the true story of a truce between British and German soldiers on the Western Front in 1914. It is told from the perspective of a fictional British soldier.
CHRISTMAS IN THE TRENCHES
Oh, my name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool, Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school. From Belgium and to Flanders, Germany to here, I have fought for King and country I love dear.
’Twas Christmas in the trenches and the frost so bitter hung, The frozen fields of France where still no songs of peace were sung. Our families back in England were toasting us that day Their brave and glorious lads so far away.
I was lying with me mess mates on the cold and rocky ground When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound. Says I, Now listen up me boys, each soldier strained to hear As one young German voice sang out so clear.
He’s singing bloody well, you know, my partner says to me. Soon one by one each German voice joined in in harmony. The cannons rested silent and the gas cloud rolled no more, As Christmas brought us respite from the war.
As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent, “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen” struck up some lads from Kent. The next they sang was “Stille Nacht.” ’Tis “Silent Night,” says I, And in two tongues one song filled up that sky.
There’s someone coming towards us now, the front line sentry cried. All sights were fixed on one lone figure trudging from their side. His truce flag like a Christmas Star shone on the plain so bright As he bravely trudged unarmed into the night.
Then one by one on either side walked in to No Man’s Land But neither gun nor bayonet, we met there hand to hand. We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well, And in a flare-lit football game we gave ’em hell.
We traded chocolates and cigarettes and photographs from home, These sons and fathers far away from families of their own. Tom Sanders played the squeeze box and they had a violin, This curious and unlikely band of men.
Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more. With sad farewells we each began to settle back to war. But the question haunted every heart that lived that wondrous night, Whose family have I fixed within my sights?
’Twas Christmas in the trenches and the frost so bitter hung. The frozen fields of France were warmed, the songs of peace were sung. For the walls they’d kept between us to exact the work of war Had been crumbled and were gone forever more.
Oh, my name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell. Each Christmas come since World War I, I’ve learned its lessons well, For the one who calls the shots won’t be among the dead and lame, And on each end of the rifle we’re the same.
~ John McCutcheon, born 1952, American singer, musician, and composer
On Remembrance Day in Britain, many people join in two minutes of silence to memorialize the dead. When Malcolm Guite did that, it prompted this response:
“There was something extraordinarily powerful about that deep silence from a ‘live’ radio, a sense that, alone in my kitchen, I was sharing the silence with millions. I stood for the two minutes, and then, suddenly, swiftly, almost involuntarily, wrote this sonnet.”
SILENCE
November pierces with its bleak remembrance Of all the bitterness and waste of war. Our silence tries but fails to make a semblance Of that lost peace they thought worth fighting for. Our silence seethes instead with wraiths and whispers, And all the restless rumour of new wars, The shells are falling all around our vespers, No moment is unscarred, there is no pause, In every instant bloodied innocence Falls to the weary earth, and whilst we stand Quiescence ends again in acquiescence, And Abel’s blood still cries in every land. One silence only might redeem that blood — Only the silence of a dying God.
-Malcolm Guite
Please hear Fr. Guite read his sonnet here: “Silence”
St. Gabriel Fool-for-Christ of the Republic of Georgia fell asleep in death on this day in 1995. That is a modern saint! I was advised last year to “get to know” St. Gabriel, and one way I’ve learned about him was through the several videos about his life, which include a multitude of stories from people who knew him well.
Gabriel served in the Soviet army as a youth, and later was tonsured a monk. He became famous in Georgia when on May 1, 1965 he set fire to a giant poster of Lenin at a Worker’s Day parade. That prompted his arrest, confinement in a mental hospital, and torture for seven months.
This movie about St. Gabriel is a very good one, which I never get tired of watching: “I Am Waiting for You at Samtavro;” it gives many details about his life and has the English translation dubbed in. His sister, his doctor, priests and monastics and others share about the love and miracles they experienced through his life and intercession before and after his repose. In the last ten years he has been recognized as a saint by the Georgian Church and then more widely throughout the world. From the movie narration:
“The saint and god-pleaser Gabriel is not only a great intercessor before God, but at the same time he is a role model for us on earth. His whole life was composed of great and brotherly love and it continues after his blessed repose. Being in the light of the Holy Trinity, Elder Gabriel is with us in an invisible, and sometimes visible way. He strengthens people in the faith and guides everyone, showing them the right path, cheering them up, and instilling hope.”
On the uncovering of the relics of Elder Gabriel of Georgia; photo by Zetalion.
St. Gabriel Fool-for-Christ of the Republic of Georgia fell asleep in death on this day in 1995. That is a modern saint! I was advised last year to “get to know” St. Gabriel, and one way I’ve learned about him was through the several videos about his life, which include a multitude of stories from people who knew him well.
Gladsome Lights 