Star Power

When “stars” shine down on the lake and tree
Sometimes I think I almost can see
The “star” that shone over Bethlehem long ago
Lighting the way to where we should go.

Now that’s just plain crazy you say
You can’t see” that star”, there’s just no way!
It was over 2,000 years ago
Whatever you see, it’s not its glow!

True, years have past, but “stars” don’t disappear,
They travel around year after year
Somewhere in space is the “Bethlehem Star”
Gliding through galaxies, sending light from afar
So there’s a chance on some “starry” night
You could look up and see the very same light
That shone on the stable and lit up the sky
When the Christ Child was born,
On that day long gone by.

And the very same power that lights up the “stars”
Is not far away, it also is ours
It gives life to our planet….the leaf on the tree…
The bird at your window, and yes, you and me.

God’s truth and love flow in the Light
Bringing Joy to the world, making all bright
Sending Peace to settle deep in our soul
Binding our wounds and making us whole.

The Light that led shepherds and kings
on that “starry” night……..
Beckons us still to do that which is right…..
To care for each other and try to be kind…..
And be not so quick to tell what’s on our mind
But take time to listen and try to forgive
So the Spirit of Christ may be seen still to live.

MUSINGS AT THE PUMPKIN PATCH

I seem to have arrived at a new place. I came by way of a hay wagon and ended up in a pumpkin patch.

It wasn’t easy getting here. I had trouble getting on and off the wagon, but when I needed help, hands were there. I took them gratefully.

I think of all the hands I have known….my mother’s small soft hand; my dad’s strong one; my husband’s hand, capable and sure, my sons’ -- young and firm, my granddaughter’s angel’s touch. I have known strangers’ hands as well. All of them have been kind. I am lucky.

Sometimes the wagon ride was bumpy and I had to hang on; other times, it was wonderful and I laughed with joy.

I descended a metal ladder placed beside the wagon. In the distance, the west hills were silhouetted against the sky, a soft shadow of blue. The fields around me stretched far and wide vibrant with orange pumpkins and strewn hay. Harvest time. In the spring new buds peeked out of the soil, in the summer vines reached out and flowers bloomed; now it is pumpkin time.

Like the pumpkin, my cycle, too, is almost done. Will some child race to wrap her arms around me? I am here for the taking. Open me up. I have seeds to share. Time has carved my face, but it can do with painting. Do as you wish. I am yours. We do not have a lot of time you and I. In days or years, my flesh will rot. Not a pretty sight. Pumpkins don’t last forever. But while I am here, I hope to make you smile and give you a taste for that which is sweet.