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Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Poem from the Middle of the Night


Too Much Adrenaline
On the Greenway behind my house

I lie awake at middle-night
With soul afire and body wide-eyed
Wondering about the
Joys and trials of days to come.
Good Lord, these wild thoughts
In darkened room
Are shapeless, yet mushrooming
Into plans and dreams
Without action’s release.
These breath-holding days
Cause me to stretch my faith
And look not to horizon dim
But to my Father’s face.

Let’s go for a walk Lord,
And burn off some of this
Bottled up energy,
Putting it into steps of prayer
And well-worn path through Your Word
As my mind is bent toward
What You have to say
And how You want me to step,
In pace with your will and in
Cadenced measures to Your grace.

© 2007, Nancy M. Gerst

The American Tobacca Trail is a 22 + mile rails-to-trails project. It's a beautiful place to walk or ride a bike, and it gets a LOT of traffic!
Triangle Trials 

Here is Placido Domingo singing "I'll Walk with God":
I'll Walk with God

A Poem for the Nativity



Adoration of the Shepherds SCHONGAUER





Cradle of Faith


Gently rocking, faith is born
On a quiet Christmas morn.
No balloons or cake with candles
Just a humble man in sandals
With his newly mothered wife
Marveling at the Gift of Life. 

Mary and the Angels by BOUGUEREAU

Crunchy straw and lowing cattle,
Little birds that flit and rattle,
Sheep with wooly winter coats
Watch the babe in manger boat,
In the darkness of the night--
Can this baby bring us light?
 
Little seeds of faith are falling
Round this scene, yet to us calling
Sprouting up for thousand years
Driving out our doubts and fears
Growing 'spite life's stormy thunders
Into green and vibrant wonders.

© 2006, Nancy Gerst


Here's a link to a lovely choral setting of three Christmas songs. 
If you like this and want to take it with you, 
the link includes information for a free download:

 

Friday, December 23, 2011

His Story is Our Story


Porcelain Music Box - Gift from Amelia Bryan in 2002

What does one do when sleep is elusive, even during busy days when sleep is really most needed?  Pray, read, or write poetry.

Praying for two girls who need the Lord's care this night. . . "Lord bless Courtney and Ella through the watches of this night and give them grace for joy in the morning."  



And here's a poem for the Christmas season and 
beyond that can be sung to the tune of a familiar carol.


 Tune: IT CAME UPON A MIDNIGHT CLEAR

The Christmas story is our own
It is our story of peace
When hearts were troubled, love unknown
God’s love, our own increased.
In humble birth, in family tree,
We see the way to know
How love can be a mystery
Yet bloom in time and grow.

A manger bed, an angel’s voice
Announced the baby was born
In Bethlehem they knelt, rejoiced
When Love came down that morn.
And we remember with great joy
The coming of our King;
A tiny child, a baby boy
Who taught the world to sing.

For thirty years enrobed in flesh,
He taught, he prayed, he led;
His ways were new, his message fresh;
With loving deeds he fed.
Then irony of greatest height
When on the cross he bled
As angels gasped at awful sight,
How could the Lord be dead?

A seed in earth laid down to die
The  crushing of  a dream
Burst forth in splendor from on high
When resurrection beamed
Upon the world in majesty
Christ did creation redeem
And set in motion eternity
With gifts of love supreme.

The Light that came will come again
And bring the world true peace;
His kingdom rid the world of sin
When war and fightings cease.
Though days may find us tinged by fear
Or wond’ring why he delays;
Look up, be calm, the Lord is near;
In hope, we wait , we pray.

Nancy Gerst, © 2011

The Mary and the Christ Child figurine in the above photo was a gift from a dear friend, Amelia Bryan, celebrating the Sanctuary Choir's presentation of Bach's MAGNIFICAT at Resurrection Lutheran Church in Cary, NC, in December of 2002.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Animals and Music

Unique Breed near Fearington Village NC
Since the birth of Christ, numerous songs have been written that fancifully tell of the animal's part in the nativity story. The video below got me to thinking that maybe these creatures weren't all that passive. 

When I was a little girl in pre-school Sunday School we used to sing a song that said, "the birdies in the tree-tops sing their song, they make a joyful chorus all day long, the flowers in the garden add their hue, so why shouldn't I, why shouldn't you, praise Him too?"  

As The Little Drummer Boy says, "the ox and lamb kept time pa-rum-pa-pum-pum!"



The Little Drummer Boy has been recorded by an interesting mix of singers and choirs. The version above is a classic; here's a few more:

Richie Petrie

You Are a Snowflake

From Wilson Bentley, "The Snowflake Man"
 
Unique. Beautiful. Each snowflake and each person. As the winter solstice draws near and snow is falling in many places, I am reminded that we are like snowflakes, each person a one-of-a-kind beautiful creation of God. During the winter solstice, the sun is at its most distant point from earth. During these cold months its often easy to feel distant or cold; yet this is our golden opportunity to fall snowflake-like and bring the beauty of Light from Beyond to dark, lonely places.

If you are feeling inadequate, overwhelmed or afraid during this Advent and Christmas season, remember the snowflake, and boldly adorn the corner of the world where God has sent you with all the shining beauty that is yours and yours alone. 

In his humble birth, our Savior Jesus Christ is the perfect picture of this; singular event in all creation, the Creator lying humbly in a bed of straw, a wisp of a baby shining brightly for eons beyond the day of his birth.

Let your light shine! The following poem from Marianne Wilson illuminates this further . . .

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate,
Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.
It is our light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.
We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
        talented, and fabulous—
Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.
Your playing small doesn’t serve the world.
There is nothing enlightened about shrinking
        so that other people
Won’t feel insecure around you.
We were born to make manifest the glory of God within us.
It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone,
And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously
Give other people permission to do the same. 1

____________
1  Marianne Williamson, A Return to Love (New York: Harper Collins, 1992). As quoted by Rosamund and Benjamin Zander in The Art of Possibility, Penquin Books, 2000, page 178-179.  Zander says that Nelson Mandela is reported to have said these words to the world at large.


In the 1920's Wilson Bentley took beautiful photos of snowflakes under the microscope.  The Snowflake Man

Monday, December 5, 2011

New Poetry Anthology

Today I got an email notice that my poem "Echo of Hope" was published in the World Poetry Movement's latest anthology, "Stars in Our Hearts." Of course they want me to buy the anthology for about seventy bucks. Does that make one a "published poet" any more than posting a poem on their own blog does? The prior editions in this series are available for purchase on Amazon.com, so maybe that makes it a little more legitimate.....of course there aren't any royalties, only the honor of having your work included. ISBN: 978-1-60880-123-7. It's the artist's life! We work away for the shared joy and good will of it all. My daughter Rachel had her poem "Dreams" published in a similar anthology when she was in high school, so I guess it runs in the family.

Here's the published poem. I vividly remember watching the miners being rescued. A true miracle and credit to some fine engineering of the drill that brought about their freedom:
 
ECHO OF HOPE

A poem about hope in the dark places of life.
In honor of the thirty-three miners rescued in Chile on October 14, 2010



Echoes of a life once lived
Haunt the darkness
As days of buried hope
Assemble alongside
Tears and dreams
In rocky-place room.

Will wild little things made big
By pressed in places
Naw their way deep into my soul
And leave imprints that
Elude the eraser of time?

Then I hear it
The echo of hope,
Of pounding dreams,
Relentless pursuit,
Moving, looming
Near to my gloomy
Desolate tomb.

The voice of the Hero
Disquiets the night;
Rescue feels raw,
Bloody, rough-hewn.
Do my wide eyes assist
The maddening quest
For freedom and light,
For death of this night?

Then I hear it
The echo of hope,
Of pounding dreams,
Relentless pursuit,
Moving, looming
Near to my gloomy
Desolate tomb.
                              
  © Nancy Gerst, 2010

Copiapo Mining Accident