This morning, the elementary school was blessed to witness the Lord’s coming through an adaptation play performed by the darling Kindergarten students. As they read their lines, floated around the stage like angels, and bent their little sheep-adorned heads, I couldn’t help but think of all the times this story … this precious story has been shared.
This Christmas, I hope that you are blessed with family, friends, fun, and an abundance of love. May this poem remind you to slow down and appreciate the truest meaning of Christ coming.
All our love,
Mrs. Raquel Harris
5th Grade Teacher
Westlake Elementary
More than Silence
the weighted world is weary with the load of its own strife
where the cost to keep up living, is the debt of your whole life
and your fractured time is broken into moments that are years
where completing lists and schedules have become your greatest fears
what should be a gracious silence, quiet peace throughout the night
is instead a constant drumming; buzzing noise becomes the white
in a time, a place, a life where things have never been less still
we seek and search and wish for strength to go against our will
as we yearn for something greater, for divinity to stand
we are ever disappointed by the work of our own hand
though we crave a touch of heaven to erase the shadowed world
we have given up on hoping for the master plan unfurled
and our eyes that tire burn for some perspective clear to see
yet we pass the chance to gaze beyond a ribbon, wreath, or tree
so this Christmas doesn’t seem at all like what we should expect
heavy hearts are cracked and bleeding from the things we must correct
then why should He, the Holy Ghost of ancient nights be heard,
when for what seems two-thousand years he uttered not a word
before casting off all hope that things will always be the same
first remember who was sent this night, a God born into shame
if you recall the very paradox, the Lord of all allowed
to his precious, blameless, only Son, the life he was endowed…
a sweet child, born into a time much darker than our own
where the greed and lust for blood and power reigned upon the throne
where the baby’s breath of heaven, still so shallow, soft, and pure
had a destiny of labor, pain, and penance to endure
there was not a chance in all the world that any man might save
so the God of all became a man, a sacrifice, a slave
from one moment’s peace beneath a star, where lamb and cattle stayed
to a banquet that would be his last, with kiss his life betrayed
we determine with our struggles that this cannot be the plan,
when a sinless God eternal came to die for sinful man
Holy Child, Star of Angels, Prince of everything that be
cast and broken, torn and hated - sacrificed for such as we
oh how quickly we remember all the troubles of our days
yet forget so swift and fleeting, gifts eternal in His ways
whether this year we acknowledge God and all that he has given
or remain again, self-focused, of-the-world and money driven
deep beyond the shattered surface of the people that we are
there remains a holy purpose, and His presence isn’t far
so believe that life is more that what we fail to do or see
and remember that your fate is woven in eternity
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