Poem to a Missionary from a Russian Convert

Who Are You Boy”
(

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Who are you boy? You journeyed to this land of ours
This land where I have endured my days
And felt oppression kill my soul
And forced me into some tight mold
And teach me that I should not hope
Unless I care to smell the smoke
Of dreams that the Red Army tamed.

Who are you boy? From this land of plenty.
Teaching of God if there is any.
You have all, we have none.
Do you know what that feels like son?
And yet, you ask me to believe
In something that I cannot see.
Some force you say will bring me joy.
Do you know what that feels like boy?

Where you are from, faith is free.
But it has a price for me.
When I have pain, I have my bottle.
Hurt dies quick when you drown it in vodka.
That’s enough to warm my soul.
I work, I sleep, the days go by –
I am waiting for the day I die.
You don’t understand this place.
You say believe, obey, have faith.
Live life well, serve and give.
Here in Russia we just live.

Who are you boy? Why did you come
To save a soul who once was numb?
To teach a wretched, hateful man
Who cursed your help, refused your hand.
I thought that we were worlds apart.
So how is it you knew my heart?
A fraction my age, you calmed my rage.
I should have been left behind
It is hard to love my kind.
Hope in your heart, power in your hands
Why did you come to this distant land.

I know now, it was for me
The Red Curtain fell, but I was not free
Until a boy from nations away.
Brought me my Lord. I bless the day
He led me to weep at my Master’s feet,
The American boy I met on the street.
New and naïve, still in his teens,
With a message to bring the world to its knees
I thought that the truth would come from another
I did not know this boy was my brother.

King Arthur story- What does woman really want?

What Does Woman Really Want?

King Arthur, in his youth, was caught poaching in the forests of the neighboring kingdom and was caught by its king. He might well have been killed immediately, for that was the punishment for transgressing the laws of property and ownership. But the neighboring king was touched by Arthur's youth and winsome character. He offered Arthur freedom if he could find the answer to a very difficult question within one year. The question? What does woman really want? This would stagger the wisest of men and seemed insurmountable for the youth. But it was better than hanging, so Arthur returned home and began questioning everyone he could find. Harlot and nun, princess and queen, wise man and court fool - all were approached, but none could give a convincing answer. Each advised, however, that there was one who would know the old witch. The cost would be high, for it was proverbial in the realm that the old witch charged ruinous prices for her services.

The last day of the year arrived, and Arthur finally was driven to consult the hag. She agreed to provide an answer that would satisfy, but the price had to be discussed first. And her price was marriage to Gawain, the noblest knight of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend. Arthur gazed at the old witch in horror: she was ugly, had but one tooth, gave forth a stench that would sicken a goat, made obscene sounds, and was humpbacked - the most loathsome creature he had ever encountered. Arthur quailed at the prospect of asking his lifelong friend to assume his terrible burden for him. But Gawain, hearing of the bargain, asserted that this was not too much to offer for the life of his companion and the preservation of the Round Table.

The wedding was announced, and the old hag gave of her wisdom: What does woman really want? She wants sovereignty over her own life! Everyone knew on the instant of hearing this that great feminine wisdom had been spoken and King Arthur would be safe. The neighboring ruler did, indeed, give Arthur his freedom when he heard the answer.

But the wedding! All the court was there, and none was more torn between relief and distress than Arthur himself. Gawain was courteous, gentle, and respectful; the old witch exhibited her worst manners, wolfed the food from her plate without aid of utensils, and emitted hideous noises and smells. Never before or since had the court of Arthur been subject to such a strain. But courtesy prevailed. and the wedding was accomplished.

Over the wedding night we shall draw a curtain of circumspection, except for one astonishing moment. When Gawain was prepared for the wedding bed and waiting for his bride to join him, she appeared as the loveliest maiden a man could ever wish to see! Gawain in his amazement asked what had happened. The maiden replied that because Gawain had been courteous to her, she would show him her hideous aspect half of the time and her gracious aspect the other half of the time: which did he choose for the day and which for the night? This was a cruel question to put before a man, and Gawain made rapid calculations. Did he want a lovely maiden to show forth during the day, when all of his friends could see, and a hideous hag at night in the privacy of their chamber; or did he want a hag during the day and a maiden in the intimate moments of their life?

The noble Gawain replied that he would let his bride choose for herself. At this, she announced that she would be fair damsel to him both day and night, since he had given her respect and sovereignty over her own life.

School Christmas Pageant

Christmas Mistake

Each December, I vowed to make Christmas a calm and peaceful experience. I had cut back on nonessential obligations - extensive card writing, endless baking, decorating, and even overspending. Yet still, I found
myself exhausted, unable to appreciate the precious family moments, and of course, the true meaning of Christmas.

My son, Nicholas, was in kindergarten that year. It was an exciting season for a six year old. For weeks, he'd been memorizing songs for his school's "Winter Pageant."

I didn't have the heart to tell him I'd be working the night of the production. Unwilling to miss his shining moment, I spoke with his teacher. She assured me there'd be a dress rehearsal the morning of the presentation. All parents unable to attend that evening were welcome to come then.

Fortunately, Nicholas seemed happy with the compromise. So, the morning of the dress rehearsal, I filed in ten minutes early, found a spot on the cafeteria floor and sat down.
Around the room, I saw several other parents quietly scampering to their seats. As I waited, the students were led into the room. Each class, accompanied by their teacher, sat cross-legged on the floor. Then, each group, one by one, rose to perform their song.

Because the public school system had long stopped referring to the holiday as "Christmas," I didn't expect anything other than fun, commercial entertainment - songs of reindeer, Santa Claus, snowflakes and good cheer. So, when my son's class rose to sing, "Christmas Love," I was slightly taken aback by its bold title. Nicholas was aglow, as were all of his classmates, adorned in fuzzy mittens, red sweaters, and bright snowcaps upon their heads. Those in the front row- center stage - held up large letters, one by one, to spell out the title of the song.

As the class would sing "C is for Christmas," a child would hold up the letter C. Then, "H is for Happy," and on and on, until each child holding up his portion had presented the complete message, "Christmas Love." The performance was going smoothly, until suddenly, we noticed her; a small, quiet, girl in the front row holding the letter "M" upside
down - totally unaware her letter "M" appeared as a "W".

The audience of 1st through 6th graders snickered at this little one's mistake, but she had no idea they were laughing at her, so she stood tall, proudly holding her "W".

Although many teachers tried to shush the children, the laughter continued until the last letter was raised, and we all saw it together. A hush came over the audience and eyes began to widen. In that instant, we understood - the reason we were there, why we celebrated the holiday in the first place, why even in the chaos, there was a purpose for our
festivities.

For when the last letter was held high, the message read loud and clear: "CHRISTWAS LOVE"

The Fourth Wiseman- one of my favorite Christmas stories

The Fourth Wiseman

The story is an addition and expansion of the account of the Biblical Magi, recounted in the Gospel of Matthew in the New Testament. It tells about a "fourth" wise man (assuming the tradition that the Magi numbered three to be true), a priest of the Magi named Artaban, one of the Medes from Persia. Like the other Magi, he sees signs in the heavens proclaiming that a King had been born among the Jews. Like them, he sets out to see the newborn ruler, carrying treasures to give as gifts to the child - a sapphire, a ruby, and a pearl of great price. However, he stops along the way to help a dying man, which makes him late to meet with the caravan of the other three wise men (from the Bible).

Since he missed the caravan, and he can't cross the desert with only a horse, he is forced to sell one of his treasures in order to buy the camels and supplies necessary for the trip. He then commences his journey but arrives in Bethlehem too late to see the child, whose parents have fled to Egypt. He saves the life of a child at the price of another of his treasures.

He then travels to Egypt and to many other countries, searching for Jesus for many years and performing acts of charity along the way. After thirty-three years, Artaban is still a pilgrim, and a seeker after light. Artaban arrives in Jerusalem in time for the crucifixion of Jesus.

He spends his last treasure, the pearl, to ransom a young woman from being sold into slavery. He is then struck in the temple by a falling roof tile, and is about to die, having failed in his quest, and yet he knew that all was well, because he had done the best he could. A voice tells him "Verily I say unto thee, Inasmuch as thou hast done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, thou hast done it unto me," and he dies in a calm radiance of wonder and joy. His treasures were accepted, and the Other Wise Man found his King.

"I do not know where this little story came from--out of the air, perhaps. One thing is certain, it is not written in any other book, nor is it to be found among the ancient lore of the East. And yet I have never felt as if it were my own. It was a gift, and it seemed to me as if I knew the Giver."—Henry Van Dyke

The Soul's Captain

The Soul’s Captain – (Reply to Invictus) Orson F. Whitney
Art thou in truth?
Then what of Him who bought thee with His blood?
Who plunged into devouring seas
And snatched thee from the flood,
Who bore for all our fallen race
What none but Him could bear-
That God who died that man might live
And endless glory share.
Of what avail thy vaunted strength
Apart from His vast might?
Pray that His light may pierce the gloom
That thou mayest see aright.
Men are as bubbles on the wave,
As leaves upon the tree,
Thou, captain of thy soul! Forsooth,
Who gave that place to thee?
Free will is thine-free agency,
To wield for right or wrong;
But thou must answer unto Him
To whom all souls belong.
Bend to the dust that ‘head unbowed, ‘
Small part of life’s great whole,
And see in Him and Him alone,
The captain of thy soul.

Also quoted in Steven Covey's book "6 Events"
Adds a level to Invictus that shows that all we can offer God is a broken heart and contrite spirit.

Invictus

BY WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY 1849–1903

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


Quoted in Steven Covey's Book 6 Events
talks to our gift of agency over our lives

At the Crossroads

He stood at the crossroads all alone,
The sunlight in his face;
He had no thought for an evil course,
He was set for a manly race.
But the road stretched east and the
road stretched west,
And he did not know which road
was the best;
So he took the wrong road and it lead
him down,
And he lost the race and the
victor's crown.
He was caught at last in an
angry snare
Because no one stood at the
crossroads there
To show him the better road.


Another day at the self-same place
A boy with high hopes stood;
He, too, was set for a manly race
He was seeking the things that
were good.
And one was there who the roads
did know,
And that one showed him the
way to go;
So he turned away from the road
leading down,
And he won the race and the
victor's crown;
He walks today on the highways fair
Because one stood at the
crossroads there
To show him a better road.




-Sadie Tiller Crawley