This is
our annual Christmas poem, from hearts broken by 2016. It is a reminder of the
travails of a certain refugee family long ago, and the fears and woes of our
world today. It is a Christmas lament, written for anyone who feels cast out,
without shelter...anyone whose refuge, whose Zion, was shattered by 2016. Peace
on Earth, good will to all is our fervent prayer.
Dear Friends and Family,
We sat down and wept
Since we
sent out last year’s poem a number of things happened which made Mike write a
lament for our annual poem. We lost two people in his family (Aunt Helen and
Uncle Barry). We lost my dad’s wife Amy. The head of my department at work died
after a very brief fight against brain cancer. Mike’s school cut several
positions; his was one of them. My nephew Brandon deployed to Afghanistan. My
priest is retiring next month. And Donald Trump is the new president-elect.
And remembered Zion, our refuge
In
response to all of that, it feels as if our safe place, our refuge, has been
shattered – we grieve, we wail, we post epic rants on Facebook. And, we decide
to move back to North Carolina, possibly in late winter or early spring. I will
keep my same job, and Mike will spend time with his father and replenish his
emotional resources. Whatever 2017 brings, we’ll face it with feet firmly
planted on the red clay of home.
The Poem
By the
rivers of Babylon, there we sat down,
yea, we
wept, when we remembered Zion.
Upon the
willows in the midst thereof
we hanged
up our harps. For there they
that led
us captive required of us songs,
and they
that wasted us required of us mirth,
saying,
‘Sing us one of the songs of Zion.’ How
shall we
sing the LORD'S song in a strange land?
Psalm 137:
1-4
It is a
season of lament—
Unwed
mother, pregnant, stunned, shunned.
Older
tradesman viewed with cynical suspicion
As he
cares for the living vessel of Presence.
Zion
shattered, they cling to each other and God.
It is a
season of great worry—
New
accounting, and, always, taxes to be paid.
Difficult
journeys to be taken and retaken
With no
clear vision of what the future holds.
Quo
vadis? Where are you going? Do you know?
It is a
season of homelessness—
In one
fell day, secure shelters can vanish.
Cast off,
adrift, wandering, we wonder…
Many of
us feel mocked, displaced, rejected.
Is there
room for us at the tables being set?
It is a
season of faith leaps—
A weary
couple seeking a new life, yet again.
Together
struggling with the real, hard now,
Yet ever
walking hand in hand the road
Before
them, delicate steps, but walking still.
Have
faith in this season of uncertainty—
By
strange waters we have sat down and wept,
All of
us, as we have mourned unsettling loss.
Our
refuge shattered, we were unable to sing.
But in
time, we each fetched our harps. Amen!
We SHALL
overcome…
Mike
& Dana
Christmas
2016
