Sweet Readers,
Christmas has settled upon my hollow. Colored
lights dot the ridges and red bows adorn farmhouse banisters and lampposts. I
look up to the tallest mountaintop and like the wise men of old I see a bright
and shinning star, only this time it is manmade and adorns a housetop. The
image still prompts me to sing the old carol…We Three Kings of Orient Are. I
love the carols that have been sung here in the mountains for generations. Music
joins our hearts and honors the newborn king.
One of my favorite Christmas hymns echoing
from the small white clapboard churches hereabouts is…Brightest and Best. The words are hauntingly
beautiful and speak of another time.
Brightest and best of the stars of the morning,
Dawn on our darkness, and lend us Thine aid;
Star of the east, the horizon adorning,
Guide where our infant redeemer is laid.
Cold on his cradle the dewdrops are shining,
Low lies His head with the beasts of the stall;
Angels adore Him in slumber reclining,
Maker and Monarch and Savior of all.
Shall we then yield Him, in costly devotion
Odors of Edom, and offerings divine?
Gems of the mountain, and pearls of the ocean,
Myrrh from the forest, and gold from the mine?
Vainly we offer each ample oblation,
Vainly with gifts would His favor secure;
Richer by far is the heart’s adoration.
Dearer to God are the prayers of the poor.
Hope you enjoy pictures of my old farmhouse
dressed for the season. The picture of the little girl singing a Christmas
prayer at church is of my daughter Brooke who celebrates her seventh Christmas
with Jesus this year.
I pray you have a blessed Christmas. Stop to remember the families of the sweet children and adults who are to soon gone in Connecticut.
Dee Dee