He taught with mirth and showered with love, Preached to all about the one above, Performed miracles, healing body and soul, And pray to the Father, His name to extol. But still, they would not listen!
He healed the leper, cured the blind, All earthly possessions he left behind, Forgave them all, both Sinner and Saint, But still, they could not escape the taint Of their collective sin from long ago.
He rode triumphantly through Jerusalem's gate, And set in motion what was forever his fate, He built a whip with a leather thong, Upturned the carts, chastised the throng. But they would not repent.
He prayed in the garden that his cup would pass, But the Father told Him to show them at last, So he carried the cross up Calgary Hill, God's mission in mercy he had to fulfill. And after he had arisen, some listened and believed,
He is old now but once he was young, Our Bernese-Chow Boots with the big red tongue, We got him the day when I was really sick, So, my wife and daughter said we better get him quick, Because Dad won’t notice while he is asleep, We can bring him in the back while he is snoring deep.
Later that day from my slumber I awoke, And from surprise and pneumonia, I thought I’d choke. I said what’s this dog that looks like a bear, And when he sheds, you’ll need to clean up his hair.
But Kendall begged to keep our dog-bear Boots. “I need a friend since Kyle is leaving, and isn’t he cute?” I said OK, but keep him out of my way, Because at that time I was all work, and no play.
But later I found that Boots was just like me, We both loved my wife and the family, And I was overweight and looked a bit like a bear, We both had heart problems, so we had to take care.
My wife took us for walks, last chance workouts, we called it, Because both Boots and I had to get fit. And as we trained and struggled, we both got better, Boots in his long hair and I in my sweater, And I came to love that dog who was just like me, Who loved nature, birds, and especially trees!
The years grew long and both of us got old, Our joints got creaky, and our noses cold, But Boots had one last lesson to teach, One of patience and love, that we often preach – But Seldom Do.
For you see Boots is now older than 102, But his love is pure, and his heart is true, He circles the house to grasp one more day, And sometimes barks, when it is not OK.
But I have grown to love him and feel blessed, To have one more day to clean up his mess, With our dog Boots, who is just like me, A cherished member of our family.
I wrote this poem upon my brother’s passing. May it bring comfort as we remember all the saints and souls who have gone before us.
The poem tells the story of what the dogs my Brother David and his wife owned were thinking about in his absence.
Where is my Master?
Zooey looked at Sis, in that mischievous way, Where is our Master? I want to go out and play.
Our yips are a little less yippee, Our yaps a little less yappy, What happened to our Master, Who always made us happy.
He gave us kisses and never fleas. He let us do our business on his trees. What happened to him? Where did he go? And what happened to our Mom, She is moving rather slow.
Alvin pawed at Jasmine , And echoed what Zooey said. Where is our Master? who always patted our head.
He gave us snacks, And it was always a treat, When he let us wrestle, At the boots on his feet.
Where is he Jasmine? Where is he now? We got to help Mom, And find him somehow.
Then Sis looked at her siblings, And said with a sisterly grin. You can’t look for him outside, You have to look within.
For like our brother Ranger, He went to his Master above. Who entered the world one December, And showered it with love.
And he waits for us in Heaven, Again, leading the way. Where there will be no more sorrow, And all good dogs get to stay.
Then all four dogs were silent, As they turned inward and prayed, And in their souls they saw our Master, And again with their Dad David,
I am working on writing Christian poetry in sonnet form. While I am not William Shakespeare or Malcolm Guite, the form is good practice. Here is a Sonnet I wrote after facilitating a LifeTeen class on discernment.
Discernment
We wander while we wait for a pathway, To guide us on and make directions clear. A mission true, from which we will not stray, A purpose strong, a goal to hold most dear. But life obscures the place and final plan, That makes our hearts leap high, and souls rejoice. We struggle onward, lost in the hinterland, Until we stop to hear God’s quiet voice. Not shouts nor cries, but whispers in the night, Instructing us with wisdom from above. A path revealed, aglow in gentle light, To lead us forth with purpose and with love. So listen close, in stillness, let fears wane, And follow where He guides, the path made plain.
Last Sunday was the feast of the Epiphany, the typical ending of the Christmas season. In this context, the Epiphany is defined as the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles represented by the Maji (the Three Kings). I wonder what the Maji felt as they returned to their homeland and got further and further away from the Christ child and the Star of Bethlehem. Did they feel sorrow and sadness, or did the knowledge of the epiphany spur them to greater spiritual heights?
We Live Life Between Epiphanies
Epiphany has a second definition in the secular sense. It means a sudden revelation or insight. For example, you can imagine Thomas Edison saying, “I had an epiphany after inventing the first light bulb,” or Alexander Graham Bell’s excitement when he first heard the voice over the telephone. It is easy to be motivated while you’re having an epiphany or leading up to a new insight. But most of our lives happen in between epiphanies. What you do in between inspirations leads to a meaningful life.
Today’s blog is all about what we do in between epiphanies. How do we discern and discover our next great insight? What are the steps that we follow to reach that next epiphany? How do we remain hopeful and motivated in between the high points? Most importantly, how do we prepare for the final epiphany that occurs only in our passing? You can read related blogs here and here.
Searching for Your Next Epiphany
The wise men did not go blindly in search of the prophesized King. Instead, they read the charts to find the Star of Bethlehem, their North Star that led to the Epiphany. Similarly, ship captains look for the North Star to orient them North correctly.
Finding your next North Star is equally vital as you navigate life’s trials. The best way to determine where to go next is by reflecting on your last peak experience. What about your previous highlight made you fulfilled and on the right track? How do you build on that insight to raise yourself to a higher level?
Here is an example. In 2015, I had a clear North Star. I had to lose weight and get healthy to support my family and team. I reached my goal of losing 150 pounds, which was both exhilarating and worrisome. After achieving the goal, I could have had a letdown after the initial high.
Instead, I decided to build on what I had learned and pay it forward to others. Also, I understood that although I had improved my body, my soul still needed work. So, I made a goal to apply the lessons I learned in meeting my health targets to improve my soul. I established targets for prayer and ways to display kindness to others.
Once you have determined your North Star, you need to envision it. Develop a Vision Board, a series of pictures and text describing where you are going next, and keep it where you can see it daily.
Following Your New North Star
Identifying your purpose and next peak is step one. Now, you need to make a plan to reach it. Think of all the planning the wise men had to do to get to Bethlehem. They had to secure Camels, provisions, and equipment for the long journey. They also had to adjust to the sandstorms that knocked them off their path.
You need to practice similar intentionality, planning, and adjustment. Establish interim SMART goals to guide you on your journey. SMART stands for Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-Bound. Do not wander lost in the desert of irrelevance buffeted by the sands of discontent. Instead, like the wise men, they plan to reach the Epiphany at the appointed time. And do not get knocked off-track by the occasional sandstorm.
Living the Mountain Top Moment
When you reach a high point, relish it. Live in the moment and learn from it to carry on during the low periods.
Again, take the example of the Three Kings. They took the time to pay homage to Jesus and presented gifts of honor and thankfulness. They also used their experience to change their lives. The Bible records that they returned to their land by a different path, avoiding Herod. Also, the Epiphany and its memory sustained them on their long journey home.
It also changed their direction in life. After the Nativity visit, the three kings lived a virtuous life. Legend has it that they were instructed and baptized by St. Thomas the Apostle in his travels to the East.
The Magi’s experience after the Epiphany has important lessons for us as we savor a high point and then return to everyday life. First, celebrate your achievement and take time before moving on to the next thing. Second, distill the lessons learned from your peak and use them as fuel for the road. Lastly, when you hit a roadblock to your next destination, recall your Epiphany to provide hope and faith.
The Last Epiphany
As we travel our earthly road, one thing should guide our direction while we live between Epiphanies—the last revelation. The life we have lived and the kindnesses we have shown will be measured when we see God face to face. This final road may be long and hard for our bodies, but our souls can strengthen until we reach the everlasting Epiphany.
Today is the birthday of JRR Tolkien, one of the significant influences on my life. I wrote a blog a few years back, but I have learned much more since then about this great author, father, Catholic, and teacher. I am reading The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien and recently finished Tolkien’s Faith, bringing new insights about my favorite author.
I saw the movie Tolkien a few years back and highly recommend it to everyone! The film documented the fundamental moments of Tolkien’s formation behind his masterpieces The Lord of the Rings and The Silmarillion. As I relived his early life through early adulthood, I thought about how much Tolkien and his works were instrumental in my own growth. Here are the eight key moments when Tolkien’s works formed and changed me.
My First Book Purchase – LOTR by JRR Tolkien.
The first book I bought with my own money (you can read about how I earned that money here: A Penny A Minute) was the Lord of the Rings box set. I have posted a picture of the Two Towers to show you how much value I got for the few dollars I spent.
I remember buying them like yesterday at Quakerbridge Mall and using the money I earned from my first job. I raced home, put my name on the cover in case someone tried to take it, and devoured the books like I did the Quarter Pounder that I had bought with the remaining change.
I have now read those same books with pages falling out at least once a year. The first time I read them all in a weekend. I remember cowering in the bed as I read about the Black Riders for the first time and adding Frodo and Sam to my evening prayers.
Bonding with My Best Friend Over Tolkien
My best friend from elementary through middle school was Paul. He loved the Lord of the Rings as much as or more than me, and we discussed it endlessly. He also introduced me to the Lord of the Rings allusions in Led Zeppelin songs, such as Misty Mountain Hop and some Galadriel references in Stairway to Heaven.
He also had pictures from the Lord of the Rings calendars decorating his room. We parted ways in high school as our lives took different turns (The Road Goes Ever On!). But I will never forget the joy I had in discussing the latest calendar and references to LOTR by Led Zeppelin!
Love of Family
My Dad was a Steelworker, a no-nonsense Blue-Collar man. He did not care for fantasy, elves, or hobbits. In contrast, I was like Frasier to my Dad’s Marty Crane.
Throughout 1978, I looked for every news item on Ralph Bashki’s upcoming rendition of The Lord of the Rings. My dad got tickets for the opening day for the whole family because he knew how much I loved it. He also got me the LP soundtrack for Christmas.
The movie was not good, but my whole family sat through it. They sat through it and tried to cheer me up, as I was disappointed. I never felt more loved since my family showed kindness and support for something I cared about.
My Senior High School Thesis on Tolkien
I love to write and get as much joy from it as I do from reading LOTR. I feel exhilarated after writing each of my blogs, and unlike most, I love writing essays for school.
My senior thesis for High School was one of my favorites – Christ Imagery in the Lord of the Rings! I learned so much from studying this subject.
Unlike Lewis, who is allegorical in the Narnia series, Tolkien is more subtle but profound. Frodo, Aragorn, and Gandalf all represent elements of Christ. Frodo is the clearest as he carries the heavy burden to Mount Doom. Aragorn, as a disguised king, leads to a new kingdom. Gandalf is perhaps the least subtle as he arises from the dead in white after battling the Balrog.
Tolkien did not like allegory, but he understood the fundamental truth that our highest calling is to sacrifice. I still remember the exhilaration of getting an A on the paper, but more so the feeling that the LOTR revealed a more profound truth! I have learned from reading Tolkien’s Faith by Holly Ordway that Tolkien’s faith infused everything he did.
Falling for the Fellowship
I waited 23 years for the next movie version of The Lord of the Rings, The Fellowship of the Ring. My wife and I had four kids waiting for its arrival!
My oldest daughter Kate was old enough to stay up late to catch the movie with me on the first day. It came out the day before I had to lead an Oral presentation for the biggest deal in my career. Nevertheless, I got the only two last tickets available for the midnight showing on the first day.
My daughter and I waited anxiously in the last two seats behind a bar that partially obstructed my view. I was praying that it would not be like the earlier movie. I will not lie to you. When the Shire and Gandalf scene came on the screen, I wept tears of joy.
Peter Jackson had captured the essence of the books that defined my life: the decency of the Hobbits, the goodness of Gandalf, and the evil of the Dark Riders, which used to shake me in my bed so many years ago.
This will sound like the ultimate geek, but I count that first viewing of the Fellowship as one of the top 10 moments in my life. (By the way, it inspired me to win the most important job of my career the next day!).
Dancing in the Glade
I thought nothing would match the scene of the Shire, but a scene from the Tolkien movie did it. My favorite story from Tolkien is not LOTR but one chapter from the Silmarillion – Of “Beren and Luthien.” I love it for three reasons.
It examines the love between people of two cultures (Elves and Man). Beren and Luthien fight against all odds to defeat evil. Last and most important, it shows the never-ending love between a man and his wife.
For the uninitiated, Beren and Luthien Tinuviel represent J.R.R. Tolkien and his wife Edith. They were married for over 50 years. Edith was Tolkien’s muse and the anchor to his life. The image took my breath away as I sat beside my wife of 38+ years and thought of her in that glade. In the movie, they show Edith dancing in the woods in England, the image Tolkien explains in his poem below.
“The leaves were long, the grass was green, The hemlock-umbels tall and fair, And in the glade, a light was seen. Of stars in shadow shimmering. Tinuviel was dancing there. To the music of a pipe unseen, And the light of stars was in her hair, And in her raiment glimmering.” (Read more here – https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/tag/luthien).
Faith Lessons from Tolkien and St John Henry Newman
I knew Tolkien was a Catholic like me, but I realized further connections after reading Tolkien’s Faith. Tolkien’s mother took JRR and his brother Hillary to England. After her husband’s passing, his mother became Catholic in the Birmingham Oratory, where St. John Henry Newman resided. More than that, Father Francis Morgan, an aide of the Saint, was JRR Tolkien’s guardian when his mother passed.
This connection deeply moved me since the prayers and writings of St. John Henry Newman have been crucial to my faith formation. I discovered his prayers on a pilgrimage when we said one of his prayers each night during our return on our bus.
Written Words of a Loving Father.
I am now reading The Letters of JRR Tolkien, which contains 500 pages of Tolkien’s letters. The letters give insight into his books, college life, relationship with Inklings, and, most importantly, family.
Professor Tolkien’s most touching and instructive letters were to his son Christopher during WW II. To keep Cristopher’s spirits up, he shared his WW I experience. He also discussed the Lord of the Rings and had Christopher edit and develop maps for the book. He also wrote letters before WW I to his wife. His final letter before his passing was to his daughter Priscilla about his arrival at a friend’s house. In all, we see how Tolkien loved and instructed his family.
Eight events that shaped a life! Thank you, J.R.R. Tolkien and the makers of this film, for making this film that explains the life of this man who shaped me and so many others!
Christmas is meant for community. Each year, the light that comes into the world brings us together. This joy is to be shared among friends, family, and neighbors!
I remember sharing this joy and love in my hometown of Crosswicks, NJ. Here is a picture of Main Street blanketed in snow. It got me dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks.
Picture of Main Street Crosswick by Katherine Caldwell
I am never tired of thinking of Christmas in my hometown. The snow glistens in the trees. The 100+ year old Christmas tree bursting into light! Neighbors singing Christmas Carols around a bonfire and later warming themselves with hot apple cider. The candlelight service in the 200-year-old Quaker Meeting House. There are four main reasons Christmas in Crosswicks is unique and makes the holiday shine brighter.
Christmas in Crosswicks is Historic
Crosswicks was settled by Quaker immigrants in 1677, and Christmas celebrations and worship have been ongoing ever since. The Quaker Meeting House, which still stands and holds the annual Candlelight service each Christmas, was built in 1773. It even held the ceremony during COVID, except it went virtual, keeping the tradition unbroken.
The Christmas of 1776 is particularly noteworthy. Colonial troops occupied Crosswicks under General Cadwalader in preparation for the historic Battle of Trenton, one of the turning points of the Revolutionary War.
Crosswicks celebrated the 105th lighting of the large Christmas tree in the Quaker fields near the Community House. To see the magic, look at this link for this year’s virtual ceremony.
One last Christmas moment relates to a historic building three buildings from my home. Brick’s Mincemeat Factory was built in 1879 and, until 1968, was the state’s largest producer of mincemeat. It is now a historical building but still holds special memories of the mincemeat pies we had each Christmas.
The historic nature of Christmas in Crosswicks makes it special but not necessarily unique. I encourage everyone to learn more about the history of your town related to Christmas.
Sharing of Faith and Fellowship
Crosswicks had diversity when it came to faith and denomination. I have already mentioned that Quakers founded the city, and the candlelight service at the Quaker Meeting House is a fixture of the holiday season. However, one of the things that I remember most about the holiday season is learning about Hanukkah at my elementary school each year. I still remember the dreidel song taught to us by one of my friend’s mother. Hanukkah was also the Festival of Light, represented by the menorah.
We also had the United Methodist Church, which my good friend attended. I would sing songs like “Go Tell It on the Mountain” with her father, a retired Methodist minister, that we did not usually sing in my Catholic Church.
We also had the historic Grace African Methodist Episcopal Church, organized in 1868 and located three buildings down the street from my house. I remember the Christmas hymns of joy echoing forth from the Church. We of Crosswicks were of different faiths and denominations, but we shared our beliefs and joy openly during the season.
Joining in Civil Community
We also joined each holiday season in the civil community. Our family joined our fellow “Crosswicksians” each year in the annual bonfire and Christmas Tree lighting. We would all circle the tree at the Community Center and sing Christmas Carols, both secular and religious. Voices rose together as one community, and we sang of hope and love! Later, we drank hot apple cider, ate donuts, and shared fellowship about the encroaching holiday season. To close the day, Santa Claus would ride on the back of the firetruck and toss candy to all of us. It was all a kid could want!
Exploring the Wonders of Winter with Friends
After all that candy, cider, and donuts, we needed an outlet to burn off the calories. Our rural town (imagine that in Jersey) offered many options in the winter months.
No Netflix for us! We grabbed our skates and went skating on the Frog Pond behind the library, or better yet, we sled down “the Hill” behind the old Firehouse. I remember leaving the house at 8 a.m. some days and not returning until 9 p.m. The only breaks were a grape soda and candy at Applegate’s Market.
We even exercised when getting our Christmas Trees. There was no Papa Noel’s or Walmart for us. We went with our Dad to cut down a tree at Nicholson’s Tree Farm. I am envious of my cousin since she still lives down the street.
In closing, Christmas in Crosswicks was full of faith, fellowship, and fun. That is why, some forty years later, I still dream of Christmas in the Crosswicks. You may be dreaming of Christmas in your hometown. Christmas in recent years, especially during Covid, feels different from the past. We may congregate again but sometimes stand apart from our fellow citizens. And even when in proximity, we sometimes rip each other apart with cutting remarks.
For some, the light of Christmas may seem a bit dimmer in recent years. And, despite our best efforts to set our homes alight like the Griswolds, we cannot capture the brightness of a smile or the warmth of a human touch. Light does not come from a bulb! Instead, it comes from hearts joined by the joy of Christmas!
Say a prayer for someone in need. Donate to a charity. Most of all, we should honor the light that has come into the world with worship and kindness for all. Until next year, I have been dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks. Let me close with a song.
Christmas in Crosswicks
I am dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks, Just like the ones I used to know, Where people got together, In all kinds of weather, To watch the Christmas tree aglow!
I am dreaming of Christmas in Crosswicks, And the bonfires in the night, May all your memories be bright, And when we cross the wicks with neighbors, we bring more light!
This Christmas Eve, we wait expectantly for God’s Love Incarnate. Not the gooey-eyed love we experience on a porch swing and a first kiss, but rather the long, hard-fought, victorious love that endures past a last kiss at the cross. The love of a God who so loved the world that he gave his only Son. The Love of our Lord who in the dungeons of Caiaphas, the agony of the Garden, and nailed to the Cross loves us, dies for our sins to be resurrected and gain us a path to Heaven.
The Love of Mary agrees to bring God into this world and stands there at the foot of the cross. She takes that hard-won love with her to the house of John, where she leads the apostles until she is assumed into Heaven and crowned its Queen. The love of a God that endures in the church and the sacrifice of the Saints. Despite our faults and sins, the Love is returning to the Mount of Olives!
This Christmas Eve, we wait expectantly for the incarnation. St. Paul in Philippians 2:5-11 speaks to the emptying of God, which in Greek is called Kenosis. For more insight on Kenosis and poetry on the topic, click this link to read Kenosis by Lucy Shaw with insights from Malcolm Guite.
In closing, the poem I wrote a few years back on the passing of a loved one is appropriate today. My brother went on to the next life today during this last week of Advent. I look forward to meeting again and holding him in my heart.
Love’s Everlasting Kiss by Don Grier
Love does not come easy, it’s built-in trials, minute by minute, day by day. It is built on sorrow, As much as hope, Tears and hardship, As much as laughter. It does not flit, It does not float, It is SOLID, and it ENDURES! Why love then? It is our purpose and mission, What we were built for, What God designed! Because love does not last, for a minute or an hour. It lasts a lifetime, and through eternity. So, drive on through the pain, And strive through the sorrow And with one last kiss, Reach for the tomorrow. And, remember in waiting, Not the words left spoken or tears, But the smile and loving eyes, That resound through the years.
I am not worthy, but I'll try, Moving forward till I die, Though I misstep along the way, I get closer day by day, To life as you meant it to be, Loving, blessed and Holy,
I don't deserve it, but I'll call, To catch me when I fall, To bring me home again, In your presence, out of Sin, With a heart meek and true, In your paradise anew.
Jesus please hear my plea, Remove the darkness, and let me see, The path that I should take, And the one that I should forsake, On my wandering path to you, And the mission I'm meant to do.
There was rain in the forecast for Duluth, the day after our glorious trek along the North Shore, spying Lake Superior from a hill near Gooseberry Falls, seabirds floating over the inland sea.
We decided to find an indoor attraction, longing for rain, we still did not want to get wet, since so much time had passed, and we feared being soaked so far from home.
The aquarium was just this side of the Aerial Bridge, where barges from around the world, floated unrestricted into their temporary home.
The fish and aquatic life in the tanks mirrored those, swimming freely in the depths of the Greatest Lake, Lake Trout, Walleye, and Sturgeon, some that lived over 100 years.
We had finished the first floor and were moving to the second, when something curious caught our eye. There, in the gift shop, was a solitary, plush Eagle.
My wife said, “Oh cute. Can we get it?” But I thought, Eagles are majestic birds of prey, Not to be sold as toys. Eagles must fly!
We proceeded to the second floor until, at the last corner, a lone Eagle with a heavy beak and piercing eyes.
It perched on a miserable little limb, staring wantonly through a screen at the wooded hills outside. It never turned toward us but only looked dejectedly at its former home, where we had roamed just the day before.
Eagles are meant to fly, to soar up toward the sun! To carry us to freedom and spread the word. What would St. John or Moses say to see nature’s herald trapped behind such a paltry barrier?
You can’t put God in a box, nor an Eagle behind a screen. Eagles are meant to fly!
Be Good Not Great! 