Tuesday, December 25, 2007

A Christmas Circular Letter

In a desire to share with several this text, I am placing it here. I hope you enjoy it. Wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas, though a day late.


Christmas Trees, Robert Frost

The city had withdrawn into itself
And left at last the country to the country;
When between whirls of snow not come to lie
And whirls of foliage not yet laid, there drove
A stranger to our yard, who looked the city,
Yet did in country fashion in that there
He sat and waited till he drew us out
A-buttoning coats to ask him who he was.
He proved to be the city come again
To look for something it had left behind
And could not do without and keep its Christmas.
He asked if I would sell my Christmas trees;
My woods-the young fir balsams like a place
Where houses all are churches and have spires.
I hadn't thought of them as Christmas trees.
I doubt if I was tempted for a moment
To sell them off their feet to go in cars
And leave the slope behind the house all bare,
Where the sun shines now no warmer than the moon.
I'd hate to have them know it if I was.
Yet more I'd hate to hold my trees except
As others hold theirs or refuse for them,
Beyond the time of profitable growth,
The trial by market everything must come to.
I dallied so much with the thought of selling.
Then whether from mistaken courtesy
And fear of seeming short of speech, or whether
From hope of hearing good of what was mine,
I said, 'There aren't enought to be worth while.'

'I could soon tell how many they would cut,
You let me look them over.'

'You could look.
But don't expect I'm going to let you have them.'
Pasture they spring in, some in clumps too close
That lop each other of boughs, but not a few
Quite solitary and having equal boughs
All round and round. The latter he nodded 'Yes' to,
Or paused to say beneath some lovelier one,
With a buyer's moderation, 'That would do.'
I thought so too, but wasn't there to say so.
We climbed the pasture on the south, crossed over,
And came down on the north.

He said, 'A thousand.'

'A thousand Christmas trees!-at what apiece?'

He felt some need of softening that to me:
'A thousand trees would come to thirty dollars.'

Then I was certain I had never meant
To let him have them. Never show surprise!
But thirty dollars seemed so small beside
The extent of pasture I should strip, three cents
(For that was all they figured out apiece),
Three cents so small beside the dollar friends
I should be writing to within the hour
Would pay in cities for good trees like those,
Regular vestry trees whole Sunday Schools
Could hang enough on to pick off enough.
A thousand Christmas trees I didn't know I had!
Worth three cents more to give away than sell
As may be shown by a simple calculatin.
Too bad I couldn't lay one in a letter.
I can't help wishing I could send you one
In wishing you herewith a Merry Christmas.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

5:13-17

I go to a church that meets under the Interstate. Those in college meet on Sunday nights to learn and talk and encourage. Not too long ago, we met and had time to write response to a line we'd read.


"You are the salt of the earth."
You are here to bring out the God-flavors. Sometimes I'm self-centered. Self-Centered and I say I want the vision of the Kingdom but it's so core that my fleshings and superficiality take precedence over a central belief. Do I display You in my conversations, my rising and going and doing? Sometimes I feel like I'm living for myself and getting really successful at seeming cool. "Death to cool. " You are the reason and redeemer.

"How can it be made salty again... It is good for nothing... Thrown out... trampled under foot."
How can we be made into Your likeness again? Lying alone in darkness, this is our desire. When all else disappoints and fades to dust and rust, You remain. May we cease, and begin to begin at Your flavor, though we begin at mercy and you show us your faithful and flawless love, we are made aware of our disappointing nature and cry out apology.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

beginnings

After thought, and an encouraging word, this has fleshed out.

I will go soon to Dallas, and leave Waco and friends and a place that has shaped me and given much. Thoughts of this move and a morning with a friend prompted this, which I suppose is a good place to begin.


CGs with Audrey this morning. Gray clouds the skies and the warmth inside gives the feel of winter. For a time I pretend it's so, that we have sought a room and it may begin snowing or raining, and all that reminds me this is not our present is the ice in my glass and the shoes on my feet. I find myself wanting for a change in season of late, but then know this would mean my time here is closing and I will soon depart. So, for now I may listen to Pedro sing of bells and have this feeling I love and know still my time here is not yet ending.
Days are numbered and You are eternal and I want what's left to stretch out and be made complete. For it to be concluded in You.