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Kangaroo Korner

posted Oct 2, 2015, 3:04 PM by Bowmansville UMC


Happy Autumn!  I'm thinking of you all with fondness, and hoping this Fall season is spectacular in color and life's gifts.  I miss the dramatic change of seasons, as in my part of Australia, the seasonal changes are quite gentle.  Having said that, though, I don't miss the extreme cold for prolonged periods or the traffic snarls occasioned by them.  But I do miss the crispness in the Autumn air and the brilliance of the changing colors of the landscape.  And Happy Halloween--Australia doesn't have a patch on USA celebrations!  (means can't compete) Moving on...here is Part 2 of our story excerpted from the writings of Paul O'Neill for the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

First, our little angel saw a young man telling stories to several small children on the street--stories about where Christmas came from, where it went and what it did during the rest of the year.  (Now, children have such simple requests, their wishes are so small, that the young man saw no reason why he could not grant them all.)  His voice not only turned children who doubted its magic once again into believers, but the angel saw adults who were passing by stop to listen.  In their eyes the angel could see them returning to their own childhood, to a time when Faith was real and not pretend, and more importantly when they left, a little of that Faith was still there.

Through this night the dream still wanders, as it was meant to be; and every year this night grows fonder of children and circumstance caught in this childhood dance, as the world turns around keeping dreams on the ground.

Windows of frosted light, prism-ing candlelight, and somehow we start to believe in the night and the dream, as it cuts through the noise with the whisper of snow; as it starts to deploy in the depths of a night that's about to begin with the feeling of snow as it melts on your skin.

And it covers the land with a dream so intense that it returns us all to a child's innocence--and then what you'd thought lost and could never retrieve, is suddenly there to be found on Christmas Eve.

Somewhere beyond where the light rarely goes, somewhere beyond where the dark barely breathes, somewhere this night--where the dark only knows--gathering light, Christmas dreams.  For soon everything will be changing in a single glance, where it all enchants, and every hope is work saving...

Next month:  "A Man--Broken then Healed, A Son--Half then Whole, A Woman--Gone not Forgotten"...

 

May your dreams awaken--and please remember the children and all those embroiled in the migrant crisis worldwide, including the political leaders of every nation...Mary

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