18)Santo Niño Dios de Las Vacas y Mulos y de mí y Otras Tonterías así by James Metelak

Originally written in Spanish.  English Version below.

Santo Niño Dios,

Ah, por Amor

Dios mío

Mierda en tu pañal

Tomando leche de mamá

Qué tontería tener un Dios así.

Bebecito Dios,

Ay, mi mente,

Ay, mi amor,

¿En qué te convertí

¿Cómo te trato

Como un fin de semana,

Una amante que visito

En las posadas afuera,

En noches desesperadas

Grito tu nombre.

Tengo mis cantos y un poco de mirra

Para darte, aplacarte.

No llores por favor.

No uses esa voz conmigo.

Santo Niño Dios

Por mí, por favor,

Duerme bien allí

En tu pesebre, en tu

Lindo pasado, tu paraíso con ángeles

Dándote luz perfecta para

Tus fotos de calendario.

Al bebecito, no despiertes.

No le sacudas, bebecitos

Son frágiles, como fe                                                                         

Ay, mi amor,

Qué lindo eres,

Qué seguro,

Qué irreal,

Qué infantil,

Ahí en el pesebre

No meces nada como mesas

Ni barcos, ni te metes con vidas. 

Bebecito Dios,

Ay, ¿cuántas de mis cajas

Quebraste ya?

Trabajé bien duro en hacerlas.

Eres demasiado grande para tu pesebre ahora

¿Cómo puedo aguantar espacio adentro

Por el bebecito quien creó el espacio?

Eres pequeño como una palabra, Adánico,

Una bomba que me convierte en una sombra

En la banqueta, gracias por la invitación al banquete

Pero no hay lugar, no, no hay espacio para ti para mi

Entre nosotros, un abismo de infinitos

No, no hay, no hay espacio, estaré borrado

En la luz en que brilla este bebecito,

Ay, por amor,

Ay, Dios mío

La sangre

Una corona de espinas es mi regalo

Feliz cumpleaños.

Sigues muriendo, sigues amando,

Aun sin sentirte.

¿Cómo puede ser?

Tener

Un Dios así.

English Version:

Sweet Baby Jesus of the Mules, me and Other Tomfooleries

Sweet baby Jesus,

Oh my love,

Oh my God,

Shit in your diaper

Sipping milk from mama.

What foolishness, a God like this.

Saint Baby God,

Oh my mind,

Oh my love,

What have I turned you into?

I treat you like a weekend

Lover that I visit in roadside inns

On a desperate night

I scream your name.

I’ve got my songs,

And a little myrrh,

To regift you, placate you,

Please don’t cry.

Don’t use that tone.

Sweet baby Jesus,

For me please

Sleep well there

In your past tense manger bed,

Your paradise with the angels

Shining the perfect light

For your calendar photo shoot.

Careful, don’t wake the baby.

Fragile, do not shake,

Babies are fragile like faith

Oh my love,

You’re so cute,

So safe,

So infantile,

So unreal

There in your manger

You don’t mess with tables

Or topsails or meddle with people.

Saint Baby Godcito,

How many broken boxes are we

Up to now?

I spent a long time on those.

You’re getting too big for your manger,

How can I make inner room for a baby who made

Outer space?

You’re small like a word, Adamic,

A bomb that leaves me transfigured as shadow

On the sidewalk; thanks for the invite,

But there’s no room, no, no space for you, for a shepherd boy like me,

We stand apart by infinities,

In the light that shines on this baby so bright.

Oh love,

Oh my God,

Blood.

For you, I have this spiny crown,

Happy Birthday.

You keep on loving, you keep on dying,

Even though I don’t feel you.

How could it be

A God like this,

A baby?

Thanks to Adriana Polanco for her Spanish grammar/sense check and her artistic editing/suggestions.

James Metelak is a poet, photographer, writer, musician, and teacher, and the primary editor of Headpiece Full of Straw and the 25 Days of Christmas.

17)Kerstin Danielle: A Few of My Favorite Things

A Perfect Reminder

Adorable Sweets

Commercial Holiday Treats 

Frost

Lake Menomin

Luces

Making Desserts

Refocusing

Scarves and Sweaters

Warmth

Kerstin Danielle works with Americorps, is a recent University of Wisconsin Stout grad, and a passionate photographer, traveller, and servant of others.

16)Wordless by Michelle H.

Hush.

Wait.

Someone comes

cloaked in silence,

Crumbling concrete.

There is meaning in his steps,

pressed to the waiting dust.

Words like water

drip from his

roots,

take on shapes

that hold.

A single, simple truth

dripped

onto swollen lips,

A Word

beyond our sense,

not in our speech

walks

into this Babble.

Listen.

He has come to take

the shards of sound

into his bleeding palms

and loose our twitching

tongues and turn the

Poisoned words all

into silver seeds.

Life and death,

sound and silence.

the wordless world

will hear.

Michelle H. is a courageous woman, an excellent writer and a passionate lit teacher based in Colorado Springs.

15)Photography by Kate M.

Photos from Lithuania, Latvija, and Romania

Click on the first photo to view as a slideshow.

The Height of Advent

Neighbor Shoveling his Drive

When putting presents under the tree became overrated...

Bundling Up

Winter Wood

Winter Fruit

Winter's Texture

When I saw this tree, the first thought that came into
 my head was "Advent, that is advent."  The branches
are so full.  Pregnant, sagging and heavy.  Expectant.
Just waiting for the moment when all would fall into place...

Making marks on a clean slate

Come to me, all you who are weary and heavy-laden...

For many, winter is quite grey and dreary, a time when solitude is felt more deeply;
the streets are empty earlier in the evening, and cold seeps bitter into the bones.
Sometimes all is left bare and naked, unable to be hidden; one can't help but see himself for
exactly who he is.  But God didn't come so he would stay that way.

14)Faceless Madonna by Jonathan Kusnerek

Click on the image for a larger size.

Jonathan Kusnerek is an student at the Art Institute of Chicago from Pensacola, Florida.  He is talented artist in many areas--canvas, sculpture, music, pottery--and a loyal and inspiring friend.

13)In Sickness and in Death by Chris Krycho

I nearly wept:
my daughter could not understand
why her body ached, rebelled,
suffered from the stain of sin
in sickness form
-- sin she's yet to will --
and my sorrow ran deeper than song:
she has entered now into
the pangs
that make us hunger for
eternity
resurrection
re-Incarnation

I tasted then
a hint
-- one barest, infinitesimal hint --
the pain of Bethlehem

I nearly wept:
the God-son had always known
why his body would ache, rebel
suffer from the stain of sin
in sickness form
-- sin he never willed --
and my trembling ran deeper than song:
he has entered then into
our pangs
and left behind
eternity
immortality
un-Incarnation 

God
and humanity
in hypostatic union
neither
twain and separate
nor
one subservient to other
but
perfect conjoination:
divinized flesh and enfleshed deity
mystery and paradox

impossibility

Why this myth come true?

For every infant child weeping wordless confusion at first illness
For every mourning father, mother, brother, sister, friend of dead child
For every shattered marriage foundered on the rocks of selfish sin
For every woman raped
For every man abused from birth
For every sick tragedy this world spews forth
For sin
For death

God with us
among us
like us
for us

Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery. For surely it is not angels that he helps, but he helps the offspring of Abraham. Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.

--Hebrews 2:14-18 ESV

Passionate for truth, Chris Krycho is composer, writer, blogger, web designer.  He also recently became a father.   Chriskrycho.com.  

12)Пусть будет рождественская ночь--Екатерина Руденко

This poem is much better in its original Russian, but I've included an English translation below.

Пусть будет рождественская ночь

Я брожу по улицам города
Я вдыхаю запах зимы
Я не чувствую сильного холода
Не боюсь одиночества тьмы

Мое сердце трепещет в волнении
Эта ночь пробуждает любовь
Где-то тихо церковное пение
Раздается. Пульсирует кровь

Я стою, погрузившись в мелодию
Надо мною сияет звезда
Мне тепло в этом пасмурном городе
Греет мысль о рожденьи Христа

Он пришел, чтобы мир наш наполнить
Светом правды, любви, доброты
Его жертву всегда будем помнить
Эта ночь дарит людям мечты

Рождество. Ночь сияет волшебная
Я не в силах уже сдержать слез
Вдалеке слышно пенье молебное
Мне тепло, хоть крепчает мороз!


English Translation:


Through the streets of the city I wander
Breathing in winter's soft scent
The warmth inside me grows stronger
I don't fear the lonely darkness

In the silence, I hear only my footsteps
Then a hymn sounds out o'er the quiet
My heart flutters in the excitement
Of a love awakened inside

Blood pulsing, I am lost in melody
A star just above me shines brightly
Cherishing the weight of Christ's birth
I am warm in this gloomy city

Peace on earth, he came down to fill us with
Love, the light of truth, and kindness
We remember always his sacrifice
It fills us with hope:  Christmas.

I am unable to stop the tears
There's a magic out here tonight
I heard a distant holy song
And I am warm in this frosty night.

Originally from Kaliningrad, when Ekaterina Rudenko isn't studying Economics or French she is often dancing, writing, or taking walks in the Moscow snow.  

Из Калиниграда, Екатерина Руденко студентка, поэт, и танцовщица. Также ее соседка думает, что она неплохо готовит.

11)The Letter by Greta Cydzikaitė

Greta Cydzikaitė is a student of Psychology, German, and Music at Glasgow University in Scotland.  Hailing from Mažeikiai, Lithuania, she is a talented and passionate violinist, and an inspiring friend in service, Spirit, and prayer.   

10)Ariana Helvie: Pensacola Christmas Photography

Click on the photos for a slideshow.

Ariana Helvie is a passionate photographer, blogger, and student from Pensacola, Florida, where there's generally a lot more sand than snow at Christmas.

Blog:  http://windblownwhimsy.blogspot.com/

9)Christmas Medley by DearOliveJuice

Josiah Hejny, aka DearOliveJuice, is an Indie Musician and worship leader based in Reno, NV.

http://youtube.com/dearolivejuice

8)Authentic Joy by Lisa Metzler

In one of those moments when I realized my son wasn't coming home for Christmas, I wept from the very depths of my being.  As I brought myself back into the present, I realized I had a choice.   Do I give in to despondency and depression or do I wholeheartedly turn to God and ask Him to help me remember the real reason for this Christmas Season?

The only way I will be able to experience joy, be useful for God's Kingdom, and bring His joy and hope to others this Christmas Season, will be if I ask God to fill me with His Holy Spirit and depend on Him for the results.  When we truly understand the fact that God willingly gave His only Son to die so we could spend eternity with Him and with our loved ones who have gone before us; it will bring us a sense of peace and even hope.

It's like standing on the crest of a hill, seeing the beautiful peaks of the mountains in the distance, and refusing to allow our minds to dwell on the smog and muck that lies between that horizon and us.

As we deliberately keep our focus on God and ask His Holy Spirit to fill us, He will enable us to take the next step.  We must limit our perspective to focusing on one step at a time and we must trust Him to bring us the grace to take the next when that time comes. 

With our eyes focused on Jesus and our hearts filled with His Holy Spirit, He will overflow from us into the lives of those around us. Only in this way can we honestly share the joy and hope of this Season regardless of our circumstances.

With Love in Jesus, Lisa

Lisa Metzler is a devotional writer and an amazing second mom from Fallbrook, CA.  Hopefully by next year we'll be able to recommend her first book.

7)I Heard the Bells by Julija and Dovilė

Julija and Dovilė are social workers, fellow students, and worship leaders from Vilnius, Lithuania.

6)Business by Audrey Miller

Click to view larger size.

Audrey says:   This watercolor was inspired by my current job. I am working at a clothing store in a mall and I noticed how prominent presents are. People see Christmas shopping as a duty. They feel they must get something for everyone.

Yet, Christmas is not about presents. Presents are to be merely an outpouring of joy in response to Jesus, the gift God gave us. Presents are not to be given because of duty but because of generosity stemming from joy. The first gift of Christmas often gets lost in the hustle and bustle, but if you look, our Lord is there.

Audrey Miller is a recent Studio Art Graduate from the University of CSU--Chico.   Besides being an impressive artist, the joy she finds in life and God is truly inspiring.  

5)Via by Stephen Carradini

Via

There are so many ways we show life:

A wedding ring, spun in nervousness;

Biking at top speed down the big hill;

The family gently shuffling pinochle.

Every smile and clap on the shoulder,

wistful sighs from lovers, states apart.

We proclaim life in each season alike,

our scenes born to catch and categorize.

But there's something special about it,

this six-week span of goodwill to men.

The life that we celebrate is lighter,

New tragedies that we endure, heavier.

There's no shine as bright as the star,

and no shadow as dark as the future

of a child, born to die, bringing life,

the darkness entwined with the light.

The life, and the death, his and ours,

seen so violently, so vividly broken,

burning our feet on the ashes of our

own coals, the fires of our own hearts

that so celebrate life, so cause deaths.

And mourning, that act so conflicted:

to celebrate life or to weep for it, now,

the impervious presence of constancy.

For to see the whole scope of life is

a reminder that we will eventually not

be alive, no matter how we celebrate.

Still, not a reason to celebrate quietly.

We can reverence the giver of life and,

yes, even death (even over our brights,

the brightest time some see while here)

to know that no matter what comes,

he has seen, and known, and felt it.

Born, saw death, mourned, and died

to rise,

like a star, celebrating life over all death,

that necessary dark flag for stars to shine,

still there, but not the main point. No more.

We celebrate life with our hands and heart

a flag waved, a candle lit, a feeling known:

death to die, notice served on Christmas.

Stephen Carradini is a writer and musician from Oklahoma who currently resides in Alabama.  

4)O Holy Night by Nicole and Ryan Bowman

Nicole Bowman lives in Florida and spends a lot of time on Youtube recording mewithoutyou covers with her husband and Vlogging with The Fortknighthood.

http://youtube.com/headinacloud

http://youtube.com/TheFortknighthood

3)Рождество Христово--Зоя Жданова (The Birth of Christ by Zoë Zhanova)

Zoë Zhanova is a Russian-Kyrgyz painter based in Bishkek.   

Зоя Жданова--русская художница из Кыргузстана.

2)The Man at the Well by Kelvin Folwer

God in his compassion

lowered himself

to the heights

of humanity

and became one of us

Fully God

yet fully us

God with us

Immanuel

The winds of change

storming in the north

led a prophet

a lonely prophet

to utter an edict

A sign will come

a sign from God

a sign that will be God

a sign

A royal bairn will be birthed

from the belly of a virgin

the sign will have a name

that name will be Immanuel

And God came to us

God in his Glory

Jesus the son

humanity in her infancy

He came into the world

the world did not recognise him

he came for his own

yet his own did not recognise him

He was a tender shoot

in dry ground

like a reed

waiting to be broken

justice being

led to victory

God with us

An age passing

an epoch folding

as heaven

intersected earth

in the form of an infant

From the throne of his cradle

with the government

upon his shoulders

our prince of peace

changed everything

He ushered the coming kingdom

the not yet

into the now

the curtain ripped

the laws of old

fell

fell from the heights of old

and landed squarely

in the temple

the temple of our hearts

He made us holy

bore our suffering

separating our sin

like the sunrise from the sunset

and crowned us with

love and mercy

His pierced skin

delivered glorious healing

from an unjust punishment

that set us free

brought us peace

and bought us salvation

salvation

from an everlasting father

and mighty God

He trawled the depths of humanity

set captives free

and rose from his suffering

returned from the hearth of hell

to the hearth of intercession

the abode of angels

and the cathedra of his father

But the altar is smashed

in the now

between what was

and what will be

he is God with us

our wonderful counsellor

Fully human

fully understanding our humanness

honoured with a broken body

in our brokenness

yet complete

to bring our completeness

he is God with us

We are not abandoned

to our coming graves

with his proclamation

on his thighs

the lord of lords

on his cloud of glory

will ride the skies

and finally

every knee will bow

and every tongue

will worship

our king

of kings

The one who was and who is

the infant in the manger

the boy in the temple

the man at the well

and the glorious

prince hanging on a wretched cross

Jesus the Christ

God With Us

Immanuel

Kelvin Fowler is a Kiwi pastor, poet, writer, and artist who lives in Klaipėda, Lithuania.  His exploits include numerous publications, a poetry tour of the UK, and various adventures like those in his book "Clueless in America."  Please do not repost this poem without his permission.

"The Man at the Well" won honorable mention in the "journalezine" Christmas Competition and will be featured in his forthcoming book of worship poetry.    Check out more of Kelvin's work at lunch.lt.

1)The Friendly Beasts

The Friendly Beasts are:

Alexandra Barker:  Vocals, percussion, tambourine

Bailey Berry:  Dove 1, flute

Sarah Bradley:  Dove 2, violin

Steven Kennedy: Donkey, guitar 

Katie Joy Nellis: Intro vocals, Cow, whistling, recorder 

Victoria Petway: Sheep, saxophone, whistling

Of Gordon, Massachusetts

The Friendly Beasts (Traditional French Carol)

Jesus, our Brother, strong and good,

Was humbly born in a stable rude,

And the friendly beasts around Him stood,

Jesus, our Brother, strong and good.

I, said the donkey, shaggy and brown,

I carried His mother uphill and down,

I carried His mother to Bethlehem town;

I, said the donkey, shaggy and brown.

I, said the cow, all white and red,

I gave Him my manger for His bed,

I gave Him hay to pillow His head;

I, said the cow, all white and red.

I, said the sheep with curly horn,

I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm,

He wore my coat on Christmas morn;

I, said the sheep with curly horn.

I, said the dove, from the rafters high,

I cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry,

We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I;

I, said the dove, from the rafters high.

Thus all the beasts, by some good spell,

In the stable dark were glad to tell

Of the gifts they gave Emmanuel,

The gifts they gave Emmanuel.