A Merry Post-Christmas

I didn't post yesterday because, well, it was Christmas!  But it wouldn't do to go without mentioning the day at all here on Scribbles, so I'll just be belated about it.  I wish all of you Scribbles readers a

merry christmas

and a

happy new year!

I hope you all had a lovely time yesterday, and are adjusting fairly well to the dazed post-Christmas sensation.  I think I have accepted the reality of it.  It helps to wear my new "Legend of Korra" Fire Ferrets t-shirt and to stare very hard at the Christmas tree, looking a bit bare without any presents beneath it.

This year was an exceptionally good one, mostly because I was very pleased with the gifts I found for my family.  There's nothing like seeing people oohing and aahing over the presents you got them: scarf-and-earrings for Jenny (matching set for Anna) and a flat-cap for her husband (looks a bit peddlar-ish; he needs a penny-farthing bicycle now); a tie for my brother (sounds dull indeed, but it was ticklish business getting one that matched his suit coat), earrings and an adorable 1920's style hat for his wife; Kidnapped, movie and book (old, cloth-bound, altogether awesome) for my dad; new water glasses for my mom; "Treasure Planet" for the niece and nephew.  Jolly fun stuff all around!  The excitement has yet to wear off.

The new year is coming up just around the corner, and as it approaches or we approach it or whatever, I am fiddling with the idea of tweaking Scribbles' layout a bit.  While I like the notebook look, the current positioning is a tad cluttered - and I don't like clutter.  For those of you who dislike change as much as I do, panic not!  I have every intention of retaining at least a similar look and feel.  It simply can't stagnate.  My mind rebels at stagnation.  I will be hunting around for a new style and designer in the next weeks or month, so keep your eyes peeled! - Which is really a disgusting phrase.

The Hound of Heaven

The funny thing about breaks is that they always seem to be busier than "normal" life. This week my inspiration has been divided pretty evenly between The White Sail's Shaking (the first draft has passed Wordcrafter in length - much excitement) and devising pretty ways of wrapping packages, but I did want to bend my mind toward a Christmas blog post. Being late to get around to it means that I have already seen quite a number of Christmas-themed posts, most of which deal (naturally) with Jesus Christ's birth. Therefore I am going to depart from the usual and post just a small portion of the long, lovely poem The Hound of Heaven by Francis Thompson.

the hound of heaven

I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind; and in the mist of tears
I hid from Him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped;
And shot, precipitated,
Adown Titanic glooms of chasmed fears,
From those strong Feet that followed, followed after.
But with unhurrying chase,
And unperturbèd pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat--and a Voice beat
More instant than the Feet--
"All things betray thee, who betrayest Me."

... Now of that long pursuit
Comes on at hand the bruit;
That Voice is round me like a bursting sea:
"And is thy earth so marred,
Shattered in shard on shard?
Lo, all things fly thee, for thou fliest Me!
Strange, piteous, futile thing,
Wherefore should any set thee love apart?
Seeing none but I makes much of naught," He said,
"And human love needs human meriting,
How hast thou merited--
Of all man's clotted clay rhe dingiest clot?
Alack, thou knowest not
How little worthy of any love thou art!
Whom wilt thou find to love ignoble thee
Save Me, save only Me?
All which I took from thee I did but take,
Not for thy harms.
But just that thou might'st seek it in my arms.
All which thy child's mistake
Fancies as lost, I have stored for the at home;
Rise, clasp My hand, and come!"

Halts by me that footfall;
Is my gloom, after all,
Shade of His hand, outstreched caressingly?
"Ah, fondest, blindest, weakest,
I am He Whom thou seekest!
Thou dravest love from thee, who dravest Me."

I am not usually a fan of poetry, as I know I've mentioned before. And yet this one captured at least an element of the majesty, the satisfaction, the glory of God in His redemptive work - the power of His grace that pursues unhurriedly and deliberately until it has gained its object. The grace of God is omnipotent, not impotent. Jesus Christ is King, the King of Glory. In this season we remember His incarnation and birth in Bethlehem; but let us not focus on the Child and lose sight of the Man, the righteous Man who has redeemed His people and sat down on the right hand of God in majesty.