The Sublime Roundabout

What the world craves most, both on a global scale, as well as in the deepest reaches of every heart, is peace. A world filled with stress. With violence. With greed and want and hate. Lives torn apart by war and anger and fear. Into this world, and into each life, enters the Prince of Peace. He lifts our sorrows, for He is acquainted with grief. He extends mercy, for He is mighty to save. He loves without ceasing, for He knows what it's like to feel alone. He loves even me, though I am unworthy. He is the real Gift of Christmas. The Gift of the Father to the world. To His children. To you. And to me. O come, O come, Emmanuel, And ransom captive Israel, That mourns in lonely exile here Until the Son of God appear. Refrain Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel. O come, Thou Wisdom from on high, Who orderest all things mightily; To us the path of knowledge show, And teach us in her ways to go. Refrain O come, ...

The other day I got to shuck 20 fresh oysters. They were still in their shells. These shells are ugly, misshapen things, gray, jagged, and hard as rocks. They look like this for defense, of course, and their shells are impenetrable. Even these ones, though they'd been out of the sea for unknown hours, were still alive. You could tell by the way they held on to their safe, rocky cocoon that they were loath to come out. But I was not to be deterred. I grabbed my trusty screwdriver and probed around the edge for a place where I could slip it between the halves of the shell and pry it open. It wasn't easy. Just finding a good spot to start applying leverage was a challenge. And then, just getting it started required a significant effort. The work had just begun, though. Cracking them open a little wasn't enough. It allowed my screwdriver to get in easier as I moved around the shell, gently but firmly prying it open. Carefully, avoiding the precious insides, I was able to ...

It starts somewhere near my stomach An emptiness Black. Cold. Dark. But darkness that sucks light A coldness that removes heat A blackness that defies the bright It moves up to my heart Fear. Pain. Sorrow. It squeezes my heart with an icy grip A spectral hand bound by iron gauntlets Binding my heart with iron straps Constricting. Then it moves to my throat Choking me. I can't breathe. But I find I don't care. Because I don't really want to live. The pressure builds, climbs Until it leaks out my eyes. Hot. Angry. Furious. Trickling down my cheeks unchecked Into my beard. Or into my pillow. Is there no balm in Gilead?

I'd forgotten several things about living in the colder climes: 1. How much I love it. It's incredibly lovely to watch snow accumulate on the world, to see how clean and bright the world looks after a new snow. How the sky gets bright with the reflected glow from the city lights onto the lowering clouds above. How there's a hush and stillness to the world, yet reverberating with an excitement and energy lying just below the surface. How the cold air feels on your face, filling your lungs. Making the first footprints on a fresh stretch of snow. 2. The need for a coat is all pervasive. You just can't go out without one. I've walked to and from work a couple of times, and the coat is very essential. Fortunately I have some good ones. So I'm good. 3. I am fortunate to have a warm, cozy place to hole up. I see folks on the street and I wonder how they spend their time, where they go to escape the cold. I've been places where I didn't have the opti...