* Note to My Readers: Due to the busyness of the next month and a half, I'm making a few minor changes to my schedule of posting. All posts will continue to be made daily and will consist of material that has not appeared before on this blog. However, because my time will be taken up by my final thesis defense for my Master of Church History degree and by a trip to the Holy Land, several of my ongoing series will be on hold until May.

- On Wednesdays, I'll be posting some of my original poems from my college years, and then in May my "Evangeliad" poems will resume.

- On Thursdays, my series on "How to Be Miserable in Your Christian Life" will wrap up by the end of March. That will conclude that series for now; however, if you enjoyed it, please let me know, because I may add more to it at some later point.

- And on Fridays, my "Glimpses of Grace" series will be on hiatus until May. In the meantime, it will be replaced with a serialized, unpublished novella that I wrote back in 2005, "Worth It All." Beginning in the first week of May, "Glimpses of Grace" will return, this time in the Thursday slot, and a newly-composed adventure novel will be posted on Fridays.

Wednesday, January 06, 2016

Christmas Poems for My Kids: Poem #3

Every year at Christmas, I write poems for each one of my kids, reflecting back on the year they've had and celebrating who they are right now. It's sort of a literary snapshot that we can look back on to remember this season in their lives, a picture that will record for us many of the things that photographs can't. As they grow older, I hope that these poems will take on special significance for each of the kids, but for now, they're still just strings of words that Dad jumbles together and makes them listen to on Christmas morning--which means that at this point in their lives, they don't really care if I post them for public consumption. So, as my Wednesday "poesy post," I'm offering up these poems. You can find the first poem here and the second here; below is the third one.

Christmas Poem 2015 

Our daughter is a paradox
Of cuteness and a firm resolve:
The beauty of a cherub face,
A will that’s in no measure small.

You learned to walk early this year
And never wanted hands to help;
You fell in love with books, and so
You tried to read them all yourself.

It took poor Dad most of the year
To make you willing to consent
To snuggling still upon his lap
And rocking, more or less content.

Amid the furor and the war
Of brothers’ rough, unholy fights,
You pour maternal love upon
The dolls and toys you hold so tight.

Beyond these charms, though, it is clear
That you are growing up with boys:
First animal sound—a T-Rex roar,
And smashing things with Hulk-hand toys.

You speak so well for not-quite-two
That people often are amazed;
You make us laugh at your sweet mix
Of stubbornness and pleasant grace.

We love how you devour books,
Including mine, though you can’t read;
But sometimes that devouring
Has been too literal for me.

So now I read you gnawed-up books,
With several covers half-consumed;
You don’t seem to mind it, though,
As long as reading can resume.

Though firm and stubborn you can be,
You’ve a cheery disposition:
You wake up sweetly from your naps
And greet with jubilation.

We love you, sweetheart, and we will
Continue loving you always,
For all your beauties, all your quirks,
In every one of all your days. 

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