Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts

Monday, August 03, 2015

Grandmother

Two years ago today, my Grandmother, the last of my grandparents, passed away, just a couple of weeks from her eighty-fifth birthday. We held two funeral services for her: one in North Carolina, where she lived the last forty-two years of her life, and one in Tennessee, where she was born, and where she was laid to rest. I was asked by my mother to provide a short eulogy at both services, and also, due to the out-of-state situation with the second funeral, to conduct the graveside service in Tennessee. I am a layman, but there was no available clergyman in Tennessee who knew Grandmother, so I was asked to fill in. Fortunately, the Church has ample resources for such situations, and I used the classic, familiar service for the burial of the dead from The Book of Common Prayer.

Grandmother invited my new bride and I to move in with her for a few months after we were married, and again for another few months the following year after coming back from a time in school out of state, before we settled in our own place. Thus she gave us, as a newlywed couple, our first home. Almost exactly twenty years later, I visited her at her home (with a few brief exceptions, she continued to live on her own until the end of her life). She clearly didn't feel well, had a headache, and was struggling to breathe that night, but she had these bouts from time to time, and she recovered fairly well before I left. I heated up a frozen microwave meal for her, though she didn't seem much inclined to eat. It would turn out to be her last meal in this life. The next morning, my Dad found her, unconscious, and called for an ambulance. Two days later, she was gone. 

What follows below is, first, my brief eulogy; then, the graveside service from the BCP. I adapted it slightly for our needs, but the only original element is the short sermon in the middle. I publish these here today in memory of Grandmother, with gratitude for her life and faith.


***

Grandmother, you knew this day would come. You hinted at it for years. We waved off the hints, less brave than you to face the beginning of the next chapter of your story. But it was more than a failure of courage: we simply couldn’t imagine anything, even death, outlasting you. You outlasted the Depression, World War, the early loss of a father, the early loss of a husband, and forty years of widowhood. You outlasted repeated assaults on the fortress of your flesh, coming home from the hospital time and again when the doctors said you wouldn’t; going back home to live on your own time and again when we said you wouldn’t. 

You loved me as your first grandson. You loved my wife as if she were your own flesh and blood. When marriage was just behind, you were happy to give us our first home. When death was just ahead, I was honored to give you your last meal. 

Through every change, you remained standing when the dust had settled. Breathing hard, with the effort of living, and with the pain of weakened lungs, but still standing. And when you could stand no more, we stood and sang around your bed, surprised that this day had come, surprised that you had not found a way to outlast once more. You fell asleep in the nighttime, and morning had not yet come. 

We will lay you to rest in Tennessee, your first, but not your final, home. From dust to flesh 85 years ago, and you were born into this earthly world, your first home. From flesh to dust now, and you are born into the heavenly world, your second home. But still not your final home. Not yet. For someday, dust will turn to flesh once again. One final change. Then you will have outlasted the last enemy, and you will breathe hard again, with the effort of living; but no weakness, no pain. Only joy. And I will see the old strength again, reawakened, and reborn. Dust to flesh. Then it will be morning.


***


The Order for 
The Burial of the Dead 

I AM the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord: he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me, shall never die. 

I know that my redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand at the latter day upon the earth: and though this body be destroyed, yet shall I see God: whom I shall see for myself, and mine eyes shall behold, and not as a stranger. 

We brought nothing into this world, and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The LORD gave, and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD. 


De profundis. Psalm cxxx.

OUT of the deep have I called unto thee, O Lord; * Lord, hear my voice. 
O let thine ears consider well * the voice of my complaint. 
If thou, Lord, wilt be extreme to mark what is sinfully done, * O Lord, who may abide it? 
For there is mercy with thee; * therefore shalt thou be feared. 
I look for the Lord; my soul doth wait for him; * in his word is my trust. 
My soul fleeth unto the Lord before the morning watch; 
O Israel, trust in the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy, * and with him is plenteous redemption. And he shall redeem Israel * from all his sins. 

Let us sing together the first and last verses of Amazing Grace. 

A reading from the fifteenth Chapter of the first Epistle of St. Paul to the Corinthians. 


1 Corinthians xv.

But now Christ is risen from the dead, and has become the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep.21 For since by man came death, by Man also came the resurrection of the dead. 22 For as in Adam all die, even so in Christ all shall be made alive. 23 But each one in his own order: Christ the firstfruits, afterward those who are Christ’s at His coming. 24 Then comes the end, when He delivers the kingdom to God the Father, when He puts an end to all rule and all authority and power. 25 For He must reign till He has put all enemies under His feet. 26 The last enemy that will be destroyed is death...42 ...The body is sown in corruption, it is raised in incorruption.43 It is sown in dishonor, it is raised in glory. It is sown in weakness, it is raised in power. 44 It is sown a natural body, it is raised a spiritual body...50 Now this I say, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; nor does corruption inherit incorruption. 51 Behold, I tell you a mystery: We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed—52 in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. 53 For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. 54 So when this corruptible has put on incorruption, and this mortal has put on immortality, then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” 

55 “O Death, where is your sting? 

O Death, where is your victory?” 

56 The sting of death is sin, and the strength of sin is the law.

57 But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. 

58 Therefore, my beloved brethren, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that your labor is not in vain in the Lord. 

Here follows the sermon.

“This world is not my home; I’m just a-passing through.” We’ve heard it often enough, and it is true enough. The heroes of the Faith in Hebrews 11 are “strangers and pilgrims on the earth.” Heaven is the hope of the believer, the destination of the traveler, the comfort of the dying. To Heaven all who are in Christ shall surely go; when they close their eyes for the final time, they will awake in Heaven. We confess it, we believe it, it is true. 

But there is more to the story. And it may be that, in missing, or perhaps forgetting, the rest of the story, we have allowed a bit of confusion in our minds. I suspect that, if pressed, most of us would remember the rest of the story, but it seems we don’t talk about it much. So many songs and poems talk about Heaven as if it were the final destination. But is it? We remember that the Bible speaks of a “new heaven and a new earth.” And it is this to which the Bible, from beginning to end, looks forward: we begin, in Genesis, in the Garden; we end, in Revelation, in the Garden-City. We are told in Psalm 22 of a time when “all the ends of the world shall remember and turn unto the LORD.” The Bible sets forth a time of redemption for this world, not just an escape to another world somewhere else. 

Again, we do go to be with Christ in Heaven when we die; but God still has a purpose to redeem this world in the long run. When Paul says, in Philippians 3, that “our citizenship is in heaven,” he goes on to say, that we are waiting, not just to go to Heaven, but for Jesus to come from Heaven. And for what purpose? Paul says, in verse 21, that Christ “will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself.”

And John looks for a day “when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of Man, and those who hear will live; when all in the graves will come out, those who have done good, to the resurrection of life, and those who have done evil, to the resurrection of judgment." 

Thus, what awaits those who die in Christ is blessing, and peace, in the presence of God, but only as a temporary place of rest. In the Biblical story, history does not end with God’s people going to Heaven, but with Heaven coming down to Earth: “And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God.” Thus John in Revelation 21. Notice that it is not that men go to dwell with God, but that God comes to dwell with men. 

The resurrection of the body: we will not live forever as disembodied spirits, but with real, physical bodies. Again, the dead will come out of their graves; God will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body. What was His glorious body like? He clearly possessed supernatural powers, but he also ate fish; and he said, “a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” And in the Scripture we read earlier, it is the body that is sown in corruption, dishonor, and weakness; and thus it is the body that is raised in incorruption, glory, and power. If you are in Christ, you will not be playing a harp on a cloud forever, like in the Sunday comics. You will have a glorified body, and you will live in an earth transformed by the presence of Heaven. 

There is, therefore, as one theologian puts it, such a thing as “Life after Life after Death.” Or as another pastor once said, “Heaven is not my home; I’m just a-passing through.” 

As we say farewell to Mary Russell, better known as Molly, as Mom, as Grandmother, we should think of her new life in biblical terms, for she has gone on ahead of us, and she, I am quite sure, understands all this far better than I do. Doubtless, if she could hear this weak attempt at explanation, she would laugh at some of my misunderstandings. But as we think of her, and what her life is like now, there are certain things we can be sure of: first, she is far better off. All weakness is gone, all pain, all sickness is over forever. Second, she is with Christ, for to be absent from the body, Paul tells us, is to be present with the Lord. Third, she is in a place where she will not remain forever: someday, her spirit, now with God, will be reunited with this same body that we today commit to the ground. And just as the bodies of God’s people will undergo death and resurrection, so will this world, which will be transformed into a new Earth, united with Heaven at last. 

This is the great hope of the Christian: that death will not have the final word. Death is an enemy, and even though we rejoice at Grandmother’s new life and joy, we feel the bitter wrath of that enemy as she is taken from us. But as we just read, death is the last enemy, and it too will be thrown down when Christ returns. If you are in Christ, you know the hope of life beyond the grave, with a resurrected body that will never know pain or death again. If you do not know that hope, I know that my Grandmother would want you to know it: to consider the truth of these promises made by the one who made the ultimate promise that He would rise on the third day after he had died; and the clear testimony of history tells us that he kept that promise. Grandmother would ask you to consider carefully and well the claims made by this man who changed the world by his death and resurrection.

Let us pray together as our Lord taught us. 

OUR Father, who art in heaven, Hallowed be thy Name. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth, As it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses, As we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation; But deliver us from evil. Amen. 

O MERCIFUL God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who is the Resurrection and the Life; in whom whosoever believeth, shall live, though he die; and whosoever liveth, and believeth in him, shall not die eternally; who also hath taught us, by his holy Apostle Saint Paul, not to be sorry, as men without hope, for those who sleep in him; We humbly beseech thee, O Father, to raise us from the death of sin unto the life of righteousness; that, when we shall depart this life, we may rest in him; and that, at the general Resurrection in the last day, we may be found acceptable in thy sight; and receive that blessing, which thy well-beloved Son shall then pronounce to all who love and fear thee, saying, Come, ye blessed children of my Father, receive the kingdom prepared for you from the beginning of the world. Grant this, we beseech thee, O merciful Father, through Jesus Christ, our Mediator and Redeemer. Amen. 

UNTO Almighty God we commend the soul of our sister departed, and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection unto eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ, at whose coming in glorious majesty to judge the world, the earth and the sea shall give up their dead; and the corruptible bodies of those who sleep in him shall be changed, and made like unto his own glorious body; according to the mighty working whereby he is able to subdue all things unto himself. 

I HEARD a voice from heaven, saying unto me, Write, From henceforth blessed are the dead who die in the Lord: even so saith the Spirit; for they rest from their labours. 

ALL that the Father giveth me shall come to me: and him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out. He that raised up Jesus from the dead: will also quicken your mortal bodies by the spirit which dwelleth in you.

Wherefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoiceth: my flesh also shall rest in hope. 

Thou shalt show me the path of life; in thy presence is the fulness of joy: and at thy right hand there is pleasure for evermore. 

REMEMBER thy servant, O Lord, according to the favour which thou bearest unto thy people, and grant that, increasing in knowledge and love of thee, she may go from strength to strength, in the life of perfect service, in thy heavenly kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, ever, one God, world without end. Amen. 

GRANDMOTHER, unto God’s gracious mercy and protection we commit you. The Lord bless you and keep you. The Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious unto you. The Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace, both now and evermore. Amen. 

Go in peace.

Friday, July 31, 2015

As Little Children

"‘Except,’ said Christ, ‘ye become as little children’—and the words are sometimes quoted to justify the flight into infantilism. Now, children differ in many ways, but they have one thing in common. Peter Pan—if indeed he exists otherwise than in the nostalgic imagination of an adult—is a case for the pathologist. All normal children (however much we discourage them) look forward to growing up. ‘Except ye become as little children,’ except you can wake on your fiftieth birthday with the same forward-looking excitement and interest in life that you enjoyed when you were five, ‘ye cannot see the Kingdom of God.’ One must not only die daily, every day one must be born again."

Dorothy L. Sayers, Strong Meat

"...wake on your fiftieth birthday with the same forward-looking excitement and interest in life that you enjoyed when you were five..." We might even expand this a bit: "as little children" might mean more than just physical immaturity: Adam and Eve were physical adults, but they were infants in understanding and experience. Just so, we were once "children" in areas like marriage, work, and parenting. (In an instructive phrasing, theologian James Jordan says that, from one perspective, the early Church "Fathers" were actually "Church Babies.") 

When considered this way, it's interesting to think how many areas of life Sayers' observation might apply to. Do we still approach our work and calling with the same zeal as when we were twenty-five? Do we still enter our marriage bed with the same passion as on our wedding night? Do we still spend as much time with our kids as when they were toddlers and we were new parents? Do we still gaze on the mysteries of the world with the same wonder as when we were three? Do we still look to the future with the same hope as when we were eighteen?

Such an attitude does not come easy. But if Sayers is right in her application of Christ's words, we have no option but to try.

Birthday Poems: Angela 2013

And here's one for my wife, Angela, from two years ago. I usually either write one for her on her birthday or our anniversary, occasionally both. I've even written a few on Mother's Day and Valentine's Day.



The Beginning
A Poem for Angela on Her Birthday
March 13, 2013

Today, among the blessings that I own,
As well as those that dodge my thankless eye,
There stands this truth: that I live not alone;
For you were born; and I made rich thereby.

Your birthday, dear, is come, and I am sure
That they are wrong who dread their yearly feast;
To view a birthday rightly is the cure
For thinking that it’s naught but life decreased.

A moment fraught with promise, hope regained:
A birthday is a New Creation Day;
No year is lost, for all the past’s contained
Within the New that now is underway;

A chance to build, repair, to change our pace,
To seek new counsel, where our plans have failed;
A time of new repentance, and new grace;
A chance to see at last what once was veiled.

It is a day of resurrection life;
An Alpha, not Omega, waits for you;
And we will go together, dearest  wife,

Into the world, to conquer and subdue.

Birthday Poems: Nathanael 2013

My eldest daughter has been asking me to post all the family poems here on this blog, so I'm going to begin making more of an effort to get more of the poems for all the kids published here (lately, I've been focusing more on William's, since his birthday was recently). Here's one written for Nathanael's seventh birthday, two years ago. The reference to the missed poem from the previous year is a theme you'll see in all the other poems written that year. There's a reason for that, but it's not important to go into here.


Stronger

A Poem for Nathanael’s Sixth…and Seventh…Birthdays
May 3, 2013
WCN

It’s true—I really should be jailed:
Forgive me, son, for I have failed
As poet of the home.
This day last year, when you turned six,
When, from my rhyming bag of tricks,
I should have grabbed poetic bricks
To build your birthday poe’m,

I didn’t—and the reason why
Would make a heartless giant cry,
In pity for my woes;
But let’s not bring that up again!
Please, just forgive me for my sin
(Or, if it will augment your grin,
Just punch me on the nose!)

But now, your birthday’s here again,
You’re six from thirteen, three from ten
(That’s seven, in my view);
By writing at the end of year,
I can look back on all the cheer,
On every joy and every fear,
On how you changed and grew.

But I can also look ahead,
To things you’ve not yet done or said
Which you should not (or should);
But first the past: look back with me:
A stronger boy is what I see,
In faith, in hope, in loyalty,
In loving what is good.
  
You’re more mature, your wisdom grows;
And like a wind that always blows,
Your mind moves all around;
Asking questions, seeking facts,
For anything your knowledge lacks,
You’re always filling in the cracks
Of Understanding’s ground.

And yet, I ought to caution you,
That something else is stronger too—
I wonder if you know?
As you grow strong in love and grace,
An enemy that you must face
Is right behind and keeping pace—
Keep close your shield and bow.

Temptation is the villain’s name:
A foe of rather famous name,
I’m sure you’ve heard of him;
So in the year that’s up ahead,
The Year of your First Wine and Bread,
Don’t let him fill your heart with dread,
To make your hope grow dim.

Press on in all that’s sound and true,
In hard things that are good for you,
Do not despise the rod;
As I have seen your love for me
Grow like the first Edenic tree,
More than all else I look to see

Your stronger love for God.

Birthday Poems: William 2015

Here's William's new Birthday Poem, late but finally finished. I just read it to him (and the family) last night, and it opened to rave reviews. The image, and the phrases, "Drums in the Deep," and "The Beater of the Drums" are from Tolkien. The form and rhythm of the poem were inspired by Lepanto, by G. K. Chesterton.




Drums in the Deep
A Poem for William on His Twelfth Birthday, July 19, 2015
Given July 30, 2015
Far in the distance, hear the drums in the deep:
Harrowing your waking hours, haunting in your sleep;
Booming from the caverns where the dark spirits delve;
Threatening and throbbing on the day that you turn twelve.

Drawing ever closer as they drum out their hate,
Pound the reckless rhythm as they ponder your fate;
Surety of victory—in confidence he comes:
Madness in his burning eyes—the beater of the drums.

Feel the drums thundering, and thudding in your chest,
Heralding the breaking and the burning of the West;
Warning of the onset of the enemies of Faith;
Crying out the coming of the terror-kindled Wraith.

***

Hear the loud thunder of the Three and the One:
Drowning out the drumming ere the battle is begun;
Filling all the battlefield with Fury and with Fear;
Now He’s calling out—He’s calling you—to fight and persevere.

Far in the distance hear the drums in retreat:
Beating out the broken signal of their blistering defeat;
Moaning in their misery, the fury of His eyes
Burning down upon the devils as they fly in sick surprise.

Hear your heart beating as you hold to your ground:
Now you’re tearing out the terror, lest it trap you and confound;
Resolving that the fear will find no home there evermore,
For this is but the End of the Beginning of the War.

Hear your proud father, as he pounds with his pen
A birthday poem for his son—the time has come again;
Proud, but much more thankful, that this son bears still a Sword:

Carrying the Covenant, the Banner of the Lord.

Saturday, July 25, 2015

Birthday Poems: William and Nathanael 2010

Here's another poem written for William, along with his brother, Nathanael: I combined their poems this particular year (2010). Inspired by John Milton's Comus, this is one of my all-time favorites.


Band of Brothers
A Poem for Nathanael, on the Occasion of His Fourth Birthday (May 3, 2010); and William, on the Occasion of his Seventh Birthday (July 19, 2010)
Given, With Love, By Your Father

Nathanael:
Well, here we are, just me and you,
There’s only two of us.
We boys, I mean: there’s only two;
Two brothers: we are small and few;
Whatever can we hope to do?

William:
Now, don’t despair, don’t fuss!

It’s true that we’re not army-size:
We can’t besiege a town.
But like the knight who charges, dies,
With noble luster in his eyes,
That gold and silver never buys;
And takes the foeman down;

So you and I are richly blessed
With courage from our Lord;
I’ve seen you, brother, sorely pressed,
Yet rise with valor, meet the test;
And you and I shall meet this Quest,
Come fire, death, or sword.

Nathanael:
Thanks, brother; now I’m set to try
To take the heights above;
For just two brothers—you and I—
By God’s dear grace may crack the sky;
We may not win but we can die,
To save that which we love.

As Jonathan and his servant went
Against a mighty crew;
So now two brothers have been sent,
To force the wicked to relent;
‘Til all heart-treasures have been spent;
And hearts are piercéd through.

William:
Well said, my brother! Now look to
The sword of steel you wear; 
Whatever can we hope to do?

Nathanael:
Nay, here were are, we happy few:
A band of brothers, small, but true;
A noble cross to bear.

Narrator:
Then bursting through the door to Hell,
Where Sorcery held sway;
Two brothers with a mighty yell,
Sent serpents spinning, beasts pell-mell;
And drave the Devil, tales do tell,
And nobly won the day.

Thus set they free their sisters twain,
Who, captured in the wood,
Refused the wizard’s cup to drain;
To keep their hearts from every stain;
And were enchanted for their pain,
For clinging to the Good.

And now the four walked hand in hand,
Walked in the dying gloam;
And knew not all that yet was planned,
Of twinkling stars and grains of sand:
That more would join their little band,
To grace their little home.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Family Lore: Kindling a Love of Story in Children

Here's a bit of information on an upcoming ebook release (later this Summer, hopefully). Stay tuned.

I am convinced that storytelling, so carefully woven into human nature by our Creator, is becoming a lost art to most of us, as we continue to outsource our storytelling needs to the movie-and-book making professionals. Nothing wrong with enjoying a good film or novel, of course; but something vital is lost when storytelling is no longer reflected in the life of churches and families. Better that we tell our own stories, however poorly, than to completely surrender this important work to the self-styled professionals.

Thus this little book, Family Lore: Kindling a Love of Story in Children. In seven short chapters, we’ll explore the importance of Story in the lives of children, and examine specific strategies for building a storytelling culture in our homes. The book is designed to be practical in nature: the last chapter is entirely devoted to suggestions you can put to work to help guide your kids in their growing love of Story. While the book is primarily written with parents in mind, the ideas here can certainly be used in classroom settings (day school or Sunday School) as well.

The Nicholas Book: A Legend of Santa Claus


 
I'm also posting here information on my books, in order to have a landing page for them, and for those who want more information on them. Here's one for a book I wrote for my kids, The Nicholas Book: A Legend of Santa Claus.


Pastor Douglas Wilson tells of a family who told their little girl that Santa Claus was not real, and received this reply: "Is Jesus real?" In a world filled with doubters and skeptics, who needs one more thing to confuse our children?

On the other hand, I, like many, grew up with the Santa Claus legend and very much enjoyed it. But because of stories like Pastor Wilson's, I was concerned to think carefully about what I taught my children concerning Saint Nicholas. For several years, I remained relatively silent on the issue, not saying much of anything about the Santa Claus legends one way or another. Eventually, of course, I had to take the time to settle the matter. To work through my own views on the various Christmas legends surrounding St. Nicholas, and to discover just what I needed to teach my children, I wrote The Nicholas Book: A Legend of Santa Claus.

If it comes down to a choice between losing Santa or losing Jesus, then Santa will have to go. But if it was possible to keep the Santa story, then I needed a story my children could grow into—not a story they would be forced to grow out of. As it stands now, children have to grow out of the Santa story, which is a sure sign that something is wrong. But it doesn't have to be that way. The great G. K. Chesterton said it well:

"What has happened to me has been the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it."

The best things of childhood are not lost when we become grownups: if they are truly worthwhile, we can keep them, albeit in a different form. But if the Father Christmas story was to be something my children could grow into, then that meant giving the story back to Legend and Mystery.

What am I trying to achieve with this book? It can be expressed in two ways:

First, I am trying to retain for my children the wonder, excitement, and joy of the Saint Nicholas legend, but in a better version of the story, and without lying to my children.

Second, I am trying to turn my children’s eyes back to Bethlehem, and away from the North Pole, but without killing the magic. For the death of magic is always accompanied by the birth of unbelief.

Here's the official description of The Nicholas Book:

"Journey back to small town America in 1959, as the story follows the adventures of Joshua and Rachel Kirk, two kids who set off on a quest to learn the truth about Santa Claus. Hearing of a mysterious book that may answer their questions, they head for The Old Page Bookshop; but on the way, they are pursued by enemies, one who wants revenge, and one who wants only the Book. To find the truth, Joshua and Rachel will have to face their fears, and learn to see the magic of the world with new eyes."

How can your family use and profit from this book? First, I would encourage you to read it with your children, every Christmas. It's a fairly short book, and if you read three chapters a night, you can finish it in less than a week. If you have a limited amount of time to read at night, just read a chapter or two, and spread it out over the two or three weeks of December leading up to Christmas. You can even read it after Christmas Day: after all, the traditional Twelve Days of Christmas begin on Christmas Day.

Second, the book was written to grow with your children, so that they will get something different out of it when they're ten or twelve than when they're six or eight. The Nicholas Book was written to replace the secular myth, but it also includes allusions to some of the modern-day stories, like the North Pole, and reindeer, so that you can keep those, if you choose, in your own family lore. Children will hear a new, and, I hope, engaging, version of how the secular myth fits in with the traditional legends, as they journey through The Nicholas Book.

As noted above, the two heroes of our story, Joshua and Rachel Kirk, discover an old book that tells (retells, actually) the story of Saint Nicholas. That story is important, and it will help you in teaching your children a Christian view of Santa Claus: the old book that they read symbolizes the Santa Claus story itself. Saint Nicholas belongs both to history and legend: the legendary elements we treat differently, as something surrounded by mystery, something that may or may not be true. In this legendary sense, children can choose to believe it or not; but either way, they must not miss the truth of Bethlehem, and the undoubted magic that is going on around them.


To purchase your own Kindle version of The Nicholas Book: A Legend of Santa Claus, click here. And remember, even if you don't own a Kindle, you can read Amazon Kindle books on your computer or phone. Click here to get your free Kindle app.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Birthday Poems: William 2013

I'm trying to gather all the past poems and stories I've written for my wife and kids and post them here, to give them a more permanent home. My oldest son William turned 12 a few days ago, so I thought I'd post one I wrote for him a couple of years ago, when he turned ten. I think this is clear enough from the poem, but I had missed writing his birthday poem the year before, which is the reason for the apology in the first stanza. Anyway, here it is.

The Builder
A Poem for William on His Tenth Birthday
By His Father, July 19, 2013

My son, draw near, and listen for a while,
To words I trust are worthy and worthwhile;
But first, confession: last year, as you know,
Your birthday poem simply did not show;
The annals of these years will thus reveal
A chasm at that point; for this I kneel
In penitence; for writing thus for you
May prove the best of all the work I do.

But now, with your forgiveness, let me speak
About a special day that falls this week:
Your birthday: you are ten years old today,
And of the many things that I could say,
There’s one that, like the tallest tree, stands out;
Like towers of a terrible redoubt;
A fitting image, for I know your heart:
To build: with skill, with cleverness, with art.

What churches, houses by your hand shall rise?
What towers to adorn the canvas-skies?
Shall new cathedrals wake in time to come?
What kind of builder will my son become?
And if your double calling yet holds true—
That God also a pastor makes of you—
Then, toiling in the sacramental guild,
What spiritual tower will you build?

But if you build, then build with more than stone:
For you may have a family of your own;
So build, therefore, a strong and noble life,
And give it to your children and your wife;
Then build a legacy to leave behind,
That generations now unborn may find;
Remember, as you build in wood and sod,

That city whose great builder is our God.