"Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men" has proven an elusive goal for mankind; maybe that's why the expression touches us as it does. Like the admonition to "act your age!" that gets thrown at very young children, we are bidden to reach up and out beyond our self, towards something imagineable while still being unseen.
I've often wondered what the prayer meant to those who heard it said during Christmas 1945, the first post-war Christmas. With all those memories of war, did a vision of Peace seem easier, or harder, to imagine?
As Christmas Eve promises us a day of Peace come the dawn, we slip in yet another Christmas Radio Memory, from that memory-filled 1945 Christmas. Today's episode in our countdown to Christmas was originally broadcast Christmas Eve, 1945, and features the happiest comedy series on radio, The Great Gildersleeve. This series in particular, dealing as it did with day-to-day life on a micro-scale few other shows ever matched, offers us today a wonderful window back to that wartime era, leaving us echoes of a world reaching for a measure of peace after so many years of conflict.
Christmas 1945 must have been a joyous occasion for some, yet to others a time when their loss would be more keenly felt than ever. And so it was, a century and a half before tomorrow, when a father heard the news of his son's injury placing him on death's door, and tried to channel his sorrow towards a message of peace, so that someone else could come just that much closer to finding a way to live, as we should, in joyful hope.
I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play
And mild and sweet their songs repeat
Of peace on earth good will to men
And the bells are ringing
Like a choir they're singing
In my heart I hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men
And in despair I bowed my head
There is no peace on earth I said
For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men
But the bells are ringing
Like a choir singing
Does anybody hear them?
Peace on earth, good will to men
Then rang the bells more loud and deep
God is not dead, nor doth He sleep
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men
Then ringing singing on its way
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good will to men
And the bells they're ringing
Like a choir they're singing
And with our hearts we'll hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men
Do you hear the bells they're ringing?
The life the angels singing
Open up your heart and hear them
Peace on earth, good will to men
Peace on earth, Peace on earth
Peace on earth, Good will to men
Showing posts with label Joy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Joy. Show all posts
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Monday, January 05, 2009
The Power Of Prayer
A little time-out for an expression of deep appreciation.
After a depressing year of setbacks and struggles, leading to a rather melancholy Christmas, my wife and I find ourselves in amazingly better spirits this week, thanks to a Heaven-sent series of sudden circumstances that have made many hoped-for dreams come true.
It took a lot of work, and I fell short of the goal a few times along the way, but we did our best to remain cheerful despite the torrent of bad news that hit us personally in 2008, and that struggle sure paid off. Which is why I wanted to write this post. I firmly believe in the power of positive thinking, and that this ongoing effort to renew our positive attitude, coupled with persistent prayer, brought a trio of timely blessings to our lives over the past few days, more wonderful than I ever would have dared to ask for.
As it always seems to happen with miracles, they all fell into place at the absolute last minute, renewing light after a despairing period of prolongued darkness.
So (keeping a long story short…), despite the negative signs that filled each day all the way to Christmas Eve, I won’t be losing my job this spring after all, thanks to an incredibly fortunate turn of events, which means we don’t have to move away as we dreaded we might; the personal health problem that worried me so much this past year was able to be addressed successfully, so far anyway (that’s an even longer story); and, last but not least, we were able to find a new dog to replace our old buddy who passed away late last year... and the stream of coincidences that led us, step by step, to finding such a perfectly suitable replacement still leave me awestruck by it all. Truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction.
As the old saying goes, to become happy you should first act happy. To which I've learned to add: to act happy you have to first believe that you should be happy.
Seeing the forebearance of others carrying much bigger crosses than my own made it just a little more possible to imagine a time beyond our present problems, seeing their determination to remain cheerful despite their situation made it that much more probable to resolve to stay cheerful myself, seeing their faith in action made it just that much easier to keep my own.
And now my perseverance has been rewarded, in all respects, even fulfilled beyond my expectations, for which I humbly Thank God for these blessings that He has seen fit to have come my way.
Thanks to the power of prayer, for us, in our little world, it seems to have become a truly Happy New Year.
After a depressing year of setbacks and struggles, leading to a rather melancholy Christmas, my wife and I find ourselves in amazingly better spirits this week, thanks to a Heaven-sent series of sudden circumstances that have made many hoped-for dreams come true.
It took a lot of work, and I fell short of the goal a few times along the way, but we did our best to remain cheerful despite the torrent of bad news that hit us personally in 2008, and that struggle sure paid off. Which is why I wanted to write this post. I firmly believe in the power of positive thinking, and that this ongoing effort to renew our positive attitude, coupled with persistent prayer, brought a trio of timely blessings to our lives over the past few days, more wonderful than I ever would have dared to ask for.
As it always seems to happen with miracles, they all fell into place at the absolute last minute, renewing light after a despairing period of prolongued darkness.
So (keeping a long story short…), despite the negative signs that filled each day all the way to Christmas Eve, I won’t be losing my job this spring after all, thanks to an incredibly fortunate turn of events, which means we don’t have to move away as we dreaded we might; the personal health problem that worried me so much this past year was able to be addressed successfully, so far anyway (that’s an even longer story); and, last but not least, we were able to find a new dog to replace our old buddy who passed away late last year... and the stream of coincidences that led us, step by step, to finding such a perfectly suitable replacement still leave me awestruck by it all. Truth is, indeed, stranger than fiction.
As the old saying goes, to become happy you should first act happy. To which I've learned to add: to act happy you have to first believe that you should be happy.
Seeing the forebearance of others carrying much bigger crosses than my own made it just a little more possible to imagine a time beyond our present problems, seeing their determination to remain cheerful despite their situation made it that much more probable to resolve to stay cheerful myself, seeing their faith in action made it just that much easier to keep my own.
And now my perseverance has been rewarded, in all respects, even fulfilled beyond my expectations, for which I humbly Thank God for these blessings that He has seen fit to have come my way.
Thanks to the power of prayer, for us, in our little world, it seems to have become a truly Happy New Year.
Monday, December 15, 2008
The Migration of Joy
It’s been hard for my wife and myself to keep the joyful spirit of Christmas this year; seeing my friend’s family soldier on through his onerous cancer treatment, my wife keeping a watchful eye on her far-away friend as he deals with his wife’s worrisome health decline, the despair of my retired colleague slowly losing his eyesight, the haunting memory of my co-worker who committed suicide, another co-worker fearing her father’s stay in the hospital this month will likely be his Final Visit, our grief in recently losing our old dog to old age… all this avalanche of bad news has made it a struggle to keep finding reasons to be happy, and I find myself challenged indeed to feel “merry” this Christmas.
Christmas time seemed so much simpler, when I was a child. The anticipation triggered by waking up to the first snowfall of the season, the thrill of shopping for The Right Gift for my parents and each new sibling as they were introduced to their first Christmas with our growing family, and especially the delight of waking up to a sea of presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Those were the days…
The childhood innocence that accompanied the narrow joys of Christmas Past must today co-exist with the adult awareness of the bigger picture within which these tableaux take place, in Christmas Present. It seems such a petty thing to shed a tear over, what with each day’s new horrors to contend with, but the passing of our dog has really hit me hard, and I miss my little buddy terribly.
How to live in hope for good times ahead, when the world gives us every reason to abandon such ideals, when each day seems to take away far more joy than it provides? The Christmas season carries the whispered answer, half-hidden but nevertheless visible, if we but have the insight to perceive it: the lesson that joy is a gift that we can give to ourselves, anew. As every thing changes, some things must never change, they must be re-embraced, they must be re-created, so that there may be a re-joicing… the experiencing of a renewed joy.
We change as we live, as our lives change us; we gain and we lose, often both at the same time, in a way that the child with his nose pressed against the frosty window, gazing expectedly at the freshly-set white blanket of snow in his front yard, could never have foreseen, or understood.
The objects, the places, even the people, that bring us joy are ever-changing as well... not always changing for the better. And maybe this is the hardest lesson to learn of all; that it is not the material present that brought us joy, but the spiritual love that inspired the initiative to give the gift in the first place. The source of that love is as ever-changing as life itself, as new friendships are made, new families are formed... new pets are found to replace the old.
In the blizzard of life’s constant change it’s hard to see the snowflake that remains unchanged: the lifelong ability to migrate from a focus on the decay of the physical, towards that which can’t truly be seen or touched, only felt; as real as a promise is real, actual in the way an imagined hope may be actual. It’s hard to act on the faith that, despite everything we learn about life as we live it, life includes the possibility for rejoicing. Renewed joy is out there, somewhere, waiting for us to move on, and find it again. Like a fresh snow blanketing the neighborhood, each one is different, however much they are similar to the ones that came before. Each one is special, however much it stirs memories of the past. Like snowflakes: countless in the ways in which they are unique.
Pressing my nose against the window and seeing the first snowfall this weekend, this older child now with white in his hair as well as his front yard looked into his past to see his future, and hopes that by this post he will commit to keep working on that act of faith required to rejoice in time for Christmas.
Christmas time seemed so much simpler, when I was a child. The anticipation triggered by waking up to the first snowfall of the season, the thrill of shopping for The Right Gift for my parents and each new sibling as they were introduced to their first Christmas with our growing family, and especially the delight of waking up to a sea of presents under the tree on Christmas morning. Those were the days…
The childhood innocence that accompanied the narrow joys of Christmas Past must today co-exist with the adult awareness of the bigger picture within which these tableaux take place, in Christmas Present. It seems such a petty thing to shed a tear over, what with each day’s new horrors to contend with, but the passing of our dog has really hit me hard, and I miss my little buddy terribly.
How to live in hope for good times ahead, when the world gives us every reason to abandon such ideals, when each day seems to take away far more joy than it provides? The Christmas season carries the whispered answer, half-hidden but nevertheless visible, if we but have the insight to perceive it: the lesson that joy is a gift that we can give to ourselves, anew. As every thing changes, some things must never change, they must be re-embraced, they must be re-created, so that there may be a re-joicing… the experiencing of a renewed joy.
We change as we live, as our lives change us; we gain and we lose, often both at the same time, in a way that the child with his nose pressed against the frosty window, gazing expectedly at the freshly-set white blanket of snow in his front yard, could never have foreseen, or understood.
The objects, the places, even the people, that bring us joy are ever-changing as well... not always changing for the better. And maybe this is the hardest lesson to learn of all; that it is not the material present that brought us joy, but the spiritual love that inspired the initiative to give the gift in the first place. The source of that love is as ever-changing as life itself, as new friendships are made, new families are formed... new pets are found to replace the old.
In the blizzard of life’s constant change it’s hard to see the snowflake that remains unchanged: the lifelong ability to migrate from a focus on the decay of the physical, towards that which can’t truly be seen or touched, only felt; as real as a promise is real, actual in the way an imagined hope may be actual. It’s hard to act on the faith that, despite everything we learn about life as we live it, life includes the possibility for rejoicing. Renewed joy is out there, somewhere, waiting for us to move on, and find it again. Like a fresh snow blanketing the neighborhood, each one is different, however much they are similar to the ones that came before. Each one is special, however much it stirs memories of the past. Like snowflakes: countless in the ways in which they are unique.
Pressing my nose against the window and seeing the first snowfall this weekend, this older child now with white in his hair as well as his front yard looked into his past to see his future, and hopes that by this post he will commit to keep working on that act of faith required to rejoice in time for Christmas.
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