Mild‘s not coward

quiet is courage to be

able to survive

Sometimes surviving horrible things is harder than dying in them, maybe. I know that many Jews who survived the concentration camps must have had PTSD, and found living afterwords very hard. I wonder what this next generation of children who have grown up during war will face, will they survive, will they have hope to survive? Hope, light, truth, love??

Babies are cute, sweet, cuddly, and more until you have to take care of them full-time. Then sometimes they are impossible. BUT, that being said, babies are light, hope, new life and I love new life. I plant a vegetable garden most years and to see the new shoots as they first come up out of the ground is wonderful. They grow strong, and bold, and bare fruit in time, then grow old, and die, all in one summer. It is as it is, circles abound.

On this night of Christmas Eve I reflect on why Christmas is such a big holiday over Easter. Shouldn’t it be the other way round? Isn’t Easter the real miracle? Well, babies are cuter than men, and hope is more easily seen in a baby than a man who dies a criminal’s death, only to rise again alive 3 days later. What that must have been like! Hope reborn for those disciples! But new life seems to carry hope easier than older life, or am I wrong??

Hope, that’s what the baby Jesus brings with his birth. The resurrection is harder to grapple with, I think. And babies are just irresistible, aren’t they? Most babies anyway. And to see hope in a baby, change, new life, new perspective, just new, is enticing, and wonderful.

The stores of the three Wise men and their gifts for the baby Jesus have sparked the gift giving of the season of Christmas. And we poor mortals run about bantering, squabling sometimes, to find that perfect gift. Sigh, Easter has no such, well almost no such commercialization. Regretfully there are chocolate bunnies and colored easter eggs.

For me the perfect gift is in being yourself, and as we age that is harder to do. When I was younger I could be myself and not worry, but now that I am older I find being me harder and harder to do. Maybe this too is why we see hope in a baby more easily than a man about to die, or just risen from the dead??


Mild, sweet natured, loved

what of the willful, ugly

child, who needs love too?


I am in the least

you do to the least of me,

you do to yourself


No man is alone

Rambling Moira / © December 24th 2017


PS – I am thinking of John Donne and one of his sermons, the one most famous I think, For Whom the Bell Tolls. Will we never learn that what we do to people is what we eventually do to ourselves? I think even what we do to our environment is eventually to ourselves.


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