I don’t even like coffee, not really
yet the warm confines speak to me.
They welcome my soul to a place of solace and comfort.
Sienna tones and cinnamon frothy smells
seduce me away from the daily drudge and grime.
Learning what is good, what still remains,
as this world slowly solidifies away.
Sip by sip.
Listening to the dusky sounds of Mahalia Jackson,
escaping from the harried shoppers.
Hurry, Worry, Panic, Shop!
Who has time to listen to the silver bells?
To take in the brisk air of a live nativity scene?
Christmas, what is that really?
How does a baby’s birth speak to our planet?
Who has time to listen to the baby’s cry?
To envision his sacred mother?
O Come let us adore Him…
Are we adoring Him?
Or have we become one of many who scurry past the bellowing symphony of a Holy Night?
Not even hearing it’s reverberations.
Yet everyday, opportunities await.
A cold person yearning for shelter.
A widow or widower in distress.
A child spending another night in fear.
A young man fighting his addictions.
A person looking for acceptance.
How do we break out of our warm toasty homes?
to welcome the prodigal ones?
Tis much more pleasant to sip creamy coffee and watch the world go by…..
This season may we take a moment
To hear the baby’s cry amongst the crowd, the sacred.
And stop and reflect on God’s goodness.
His first gift to mankind.
To see his face in the glistening ornaments hanging on the tree.
To pause and be thankful.
“O come let us adore Him…”