Star of Bethlehem

     When I think of Christmas, uppermost in my mind, is the birth of Jesus laying in a manager.  However one Christmas carol, "We Three Kings," reminded me of the significance of the star that led the wise men to the baby boy.  There are many who believe the star was an astronomical event while others believe it to be a supernatural, miraculous occurrence.  Regardless, I tend to regard the star as a wonderful, bright experience, a holy star, that was planned by God, and I love the refrain of the  song: 
                O star of wonder, star of night,
                Star with royal beauty bright,
                Westward leading, still proceeding,
                Guide us to they perfect light. 
    
     Here are my own thoughts about the star:

HOLY STAR

Oh holy star,

so near, yet so far.

Shining in all your radiant glory

sharing in the Messiah's story.

Oh holy star, lighting the way

with your lovely ray;

Stunning! Illuminating bright!

Spectacular in the night!

Sending out a visual declaration

as wise men gazed in excited adoration.

Oh holy star,

so near, yet so far.

Hovering over the manager scene;

Casting down your joyous diamond beam.

Oh, star of light, star of wonder

to those down under.

Oh, star from the East - an astronomical mystery;

Puzzling all throughout history.

Out of the night, shining forth,

leading, guiding, proclaiming the Savior's birth. 

                                                          Mary Crisp Jameson

 



 

Christmas Morn-No Room

     Christmas is almost here. People are shopping, and putting up trees.  They are wrapping presents and making grocery list.  Hopefully, the busy season will leave room in our hearts for Jesus, who is the real reason for the season.  Jesus did not have room in the inn when He was born, but He can have a room in our heart before our end. 

           

                        Christmas Morn- No Room

For unto us a child is born!

Yet, there was no room for Him in the inn;
No warmth except a blanket, small and worn.

Laying in a barnyard crib was the Son God promised to send;

A Savior, Wonderful Counselor, a mighty King!
Yet, there was no room for Him in the inn.
A birth no one understood or what joy this child would bring;
No one could begin to comprehend. 
Indeed, the heavens declared His birth;
Angels exclaimed, "Glory to God! Peace on earth."
            A Christmas gift for all,
            A child so small,
            Born and lying in a manager stall.
Jesus! The Messiah had come with love to share.
But what! No room in the inn for Him?
No throne - no bed - no room to spare?
Yet, His glory was proclaimed in hymn;
The wise men came; the shepherds heard.
"A King is born!" the angels sang.
            Hearts were stirred;
            Hope sprang.
Yet, for some, there will be no room for Him in the "end."
                                         Mary Crisp Jameson

Step Out Of The Boat

     When did you last "step out of the boat?"  
     As I was reading Joel Osteen's devotional on why Peter wanted to step out of the boat, I was reminded of a story I once read about a man who had  driven to the grocery store to get milk, but on the way home he was compelled to turn onto a street he had never traveled, and something was nudging him to stop at a house in which he knew nothing about the people living there.  He argued with God and passed by the house only to return to finally knock on the door with his jug of milk in hand.  He was met by a lady in tears because she had no money to purchase milk for her baby. 
     Can you imagine how foolish this man must have felt as he knocked on a stranger's door to ask if they needed milk?
    In Osteen's devotional he explained that Peter believed, at that moment, that he could do what God placed in his heart.  Peter had faith enough to be bold.  He could walk on water!  In Osteen's devotional he was making the point that we need a positive attitude of faith to believe that we can do great things.
     My point is that if we strive to listen to the quiet nudging of God, we can have the boldness to step out of our comfort zone to obey and follow God's direction.  Yes, we may feel foolish, but what if we actually helped someone in need? 

“And Peter answered Him, ‘Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.’ He said, ‘Come!’ So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water, and he came toward Jesus.”
(Matthew 14:28–29, AMP)

The Coat of Many Colors

     Dolly Parton wrote a song many years ago about her coat of many colors which her mother made out of her love for Dolly.  Some of the lyrics were:

My coat of many colors

That my momma made for me
Made only from rags
But I wore it so proudly
Although we had no money
I was rich as I could be
In my coat of many colors
My momma made for me

     When I watched her recent movie on The Coat of Many Colors, it reminded me so much of life with Momma and Daddy in their early years when I was just a small child.  They worked so hard to give their children what was needed and sacrificed so much because of the love they had for their children. 
     So the story of my coat of many colors goes something like the following:

     I  don't remember being poor, but I remember family love.

     We had home-sewn clothes made from flour sacks.  It was good cotton material with pretty little colorful flowers. and we were so proud of our flour sack dresses.  We didn't have running water or inside plumbing either.   Water was drawn from a well, and we ran outside when nature called.  Baths were taken in a big round wash tub; the water kept warm by a nearby open heater.  One by one we bathed til we were all done. 
     I don't remember being poor, but I remember open fire warmth and family love. 
     Momma milked cows and churned our butter.  Papa plowed till he got an oil field job.   When Papa worked the land, the family picked cotton out in the field.  I was too little, but I remember.  Later, when we had only a big garden to feed the family, Momma got up early to pick bushels of peas and butterbeans before leaving for her factory job.  We three girls sat and shelled all day to have them ready for canning when Momma got home from work.  Her work day was simply not yet done.
     I woke most mornings to roosters crowing and barnyard sounds.  On Saturdays,  Mama washed clothes from a black iron pot using a scrub board to wash away hardened dirt off daddy's work clothes.  We kids hung the clothes across bard-wired fences.     
     I don't remember being poor, but I remember hard work and family love.
     There were Saturdays filled with chickens clucking as Momma rung their necks.  I'd get up to watch with big bright eyes as those chickens flopped upon the ground.  I was scared!  "Momma, they're not dead," I'd say, but Momma assured me they were.  It seemed they flopped for hours when actually they lay still after only a very short time.   Then Momma would dunk them in scalding water, pluck their feathers, let the feathers dry in the sun, and then she'd  turn them into fluffy, soft pillows.         
     I don't remember being poor, but I remember shared experiences and family love. 
     There were hog killing days with grandparents, uncles, and aunts.  They'd gather to kill and scrap those hogs.  The women made lard and shittlings, then they'd fry up some tenderloin.
      Other days Grandma cut up chunks of meat, and we kids went down to their spring and fished for crawdads using straight pens tied to a string.  Grandma would cut off the crawdad tails, and we would have a fried up feast.   Some lazy Sunday afternoons found our families gathering to smack our lips on watermelons that had been picked and kept cooled under a big oak shade.  Other times we feasted on hand-cranked ice cream.  The men took turns turning the crank while we, with all our cousins,  climbed the big oak tree and sit on huge big limbs which  shaded the wooden splintery bench beneath.   
     I don't remember being poor, but I remember fellowship and family love. 
     Ma and Pa took us to church on Sundays with no questions asked.  It was the way it was supposed to be.  If we got a whipping at school, we could expect to get another when we got home.  That's what we were taught.  We said, "Yes Ma'ma" and "Yes Sir," and didn't sass our parents.  Respect was taught.        
     I don't remember being poor, but I remember wise teachings and family love.
     Christmases were not filled with lots of toys and stuff.  We got brand new shoes, home-sewn clothes, and things we really needed.  Our home was filled with the fresh citrus smell of oranges and the sweet scent of ripe red apples, which was the only time of the year we were blessed with fruit.
     I don't remember being poor, but I remember simple Christmases and family love. 
     I was "rich as I could be" cause I don't remember being poor.     

      What better time of the year to remember being rich than at Christmas, for Christmas is all about love?  A time when Jesus was born to bring love and life to all.  John 15:13 Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.   Jesus is truly the greatest Christmas gift of all!  We can be "as rich as we can be" if we have Jesus in our life.