Those three kings of orient are
Smoking giant smelly cigars.
We told them to stop, and they did;
(They knew better than to ignore a kid!)
Those three kings of orient are
No longer smoking giant cigars.

How beautiful and joyous,
The sound of sweet music!
Singing of God’s wondrous
And amazing great love!

I think all of us agree
There is power in songs.
God can work through these
To bring about healing

Tell me why is there strength
In the praising of our LORD,
When we all sing at length,
When our eyes lift to heaven?

Why does it bring bright faces,
And lift off great sadness?
Why does it bring fun dances,
And drive away fear?

With vibrant eyes and joyful smile
She brightens every room
Her sunny laugh and cheerful style
Unending, I presume.

*

Quiet as a cat,
She sits as still as night;
And as the curls fall round her face
As soft and light as lace,
A smile glows out from brown eyes,
Appearing bright and wise.
And where she sat
Warmth could be found
In that pretty sight
Spreading all around
The beauty of a lily, white
So purely shedding light.

*

All of our colors,
The red, white, and blue,
They fill me with pride
And prob’ly you too.

Red and white stripes,
Blue has white stars.
Together they make
The best flag—‘cause it’s ours!

I love my country
And what it stands for.
When I sing our anthem
I feel my heart soar.

We’re special, unique,
And one-of-a-kind.
No one’s ever succeeded—
Search and you’ll find

In 1700, our colonists looked
And sadly they found
The king was unjust,
So they made a big sound!

It’s hard for me to say
Or describe what I feel
Though I’m physically better,
It does take time to heal.

It all began with me
And a thoughtless inspiration
Which caused an injury
And cut off my respiration.

On Thursday night, I flew
To a hospital to stay
But I don’t remember much,
You see, they knocked me out that day.

I woke on Friday evening—
Two fractures in my skull.
Alarmed, I prayed to God who yet
I knew was in control.

Having recently finished up a science-y degree, I am obviously well qualified to thoroughly and accurately discuss the cultural impact of fairy tales. Well, perhaps not. But perhaps my fresh memories of deep dives into the murky waters of f-ratios, geostrophic balance, sediment cores, and DNA cleaning have made me hungry for exploration in waters of a different sort.

The culture of today is focused on aesthetics. To some it may be no more than just a word, but to others it is the air we breathe. It is what we are trying to achieve in the way we dress, the way our room is decorated, the angle of our selfie or the appearance of the food on our plate at lunch. To some, aesthetics is the goddess of acceptance.

It was a hard day for us all,
That last day in the wood,
That day we saw you slip and fall
From where you sweetly stood.

One minute, you were singing songs
And laughing merrily,
And softly humming pleasant tunes
And smiling airily.

The next you lay upon the ground,
Your song no longer sounding,
Your smile gone, no longer found,
Your laugh no more resounding.

And when we saw the injury
Upon your lovely head,
Our hearts quaked as we held you close
And saw how bad you bled.

God is holy, but yet God loves
He yearns for you to see that love.
God is mercy, and He’s just
But still patient with all of us.

He doesn’t condemn, He doesn’t say:
“You’re guilty, you don’t follow my way”
He gives us time to accept His gift,
Till our loud praise, to His Son lifts.

Again I say, our God is love
He showed it when He gave His Son
Our LORD tells us, “You are adored,
And I’ll come in, just open the door”

It was a cool, crisp morning. Hannah washed the breakfast dishes while her husband, Philip, tied a few chests onto their donkey. He was a carpenter, and a rather wealthy man had asked him to make the fine chests and bring them to his house.

“I’ll be back by supper,” Philip told his wife as he mounted the animal. He didn’t swing himself up like he used too, Hannah noticed. But, then again, her step wasn’t quite as springy as it had been, nor her back as straight. They were both getting older.