The Christ Child Within Born Out of Our Heart of Stone

The Christ Child Within Being Born out of Our Heart of Stone

Mike Chapman. Christ child

 “I realize that the only way for us to stay well in the midst of the many ‘worlds’ is to stay close to the small, vulnerable child that lives in our hearts and in every other human being. Often, we do not know that the Christ child is within us. When we discover him, we can truly rejoice.”

—Henri Nouwen in You Are the Beloved (Convergent Books 2017).

This image of the Christ Child coming out of the stone by the sculptor

Mike Chapman is under the portico entrance from Trafalgar Square to St. Martin-in-the-Fields. It remains one of our best images of the Christ Child within. When I first saw it, it took my breath away. Unfortunately, my photography does not do it justice. Every time I visit London, I am drawn to it. It represents Christ’s birth to the world and the birth of Christ within us, out of our hearts of stone.

I hear the prayer to Ezekiel, “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh (36:26).”

When our heart of stone is removed, we find Christ within.

How does this feat occur? First, we are touched by the God of love. Most often, this God of love reaches us through the love of another person. It can also happen in reading, writing, being by water or trees, or any of God’s creations that emit love.

Our job is to put ourselves in a position to connect to the God of love through spiritual practices and our living in community. We are called to open our eyes, live in the present, and look for and see the love of God coming out of stone, healing the stone heart within us and in the world, especially during this Christmas season.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

Neighborhood Christmas Tradition

Neighborhood Christmas Tradition

Mosley Truck at Christmas

 Whenever my family and I turned onto our road at Christmas, our first sight was the decorated truck with a Christmas tree in the driveway of the first house in our neighborhood. There was something magical about the scene, as we all felt an inner warmth of love that we could not explain.

It re-centered us from stress to inner love and appreciation of this "Christmas card" our neighbors offered our street. Then, when we stopped seeing it at the holidays, we missed it. We even bought plates and glasses with the lighted Christmas tree on a truck, but it wasn't the same.

 After several years, we recently received our neighbor's explanation to our neighborhood

Guest Writer:

 A note to our neighborhood from Kent Mosley
Subject: Laurie Mosley from Kent Mosley

Laurie

"My wife Laurie passed away on May 6th.  She had been battling an illness for a long time.  Although her pain and worries are over, I miss her. After we had lived here on the corner together for our twenty-five years of marriage, I thought she deserved to be mentioned in the history of our street.

If anyone remembers the old blue truck we decorated in the front yard at Christmas time, it was her idea. I know if you lived here in those days, twenty-five years ago or so, you will remember. She went with me to cut down the first fourteen-foot cedar tree. She was in charge of decorating, ensuring the wheel light spun in the right direction, and that all the truck's lights were in the right place. She made sure the lights and Christmas balls were hung just right on the tree.

So, this is just a note "to say a thank you and prayer for Laurie Mosley" if you ever enjoyed the "ole blue," all decorated in a Dr. Suess-style Christmas Celebration. Our first year was definitely the best.  After a few more years of setting up, I just got a little old to cut down a fourteen-foot cedar tree on my own, and there were fewer and fewer places to find one nearby. So, I apologize for letting that slip away, as memories do. But let it be known Laurie was the artist, the inspiration, the taskmaster until it was done right."

Kent & Laurie.    NW corner of our neighborhood.

I will never forget how a grieving husband honors his wife and our neighborhood by sharing this extraordinary Christmas story with us, and we now share it with you.

Joanna joannaseibert.com

Remembering Joy from those we loved and see no longer

Remembering Joy from those we loved and see no longer

“But the souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and no torment will ever touch them.” Wisdom 3:1.

 My experience is that those who have known the death of a loved one around Christmas may find the holidays not always a joyful time in their memory. So today, I remember my brother again, and Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who died on Boxing Day in 2021 at age 90.

I have written about my brother, who died in December eleven years ago in 2014, on Boxing Day, the second day of Christmas. He died four months after his 70th birthday, almost precisely at the same age as our father died. My brother was born on Labor Day and died on Boxing Day. We will have to work on the significance of all that. Boxing Day is traditionally the day after Christmas when servants in English households receive a gift from their employer in a “box.” Of course, Labor Day honors those working and gives them an extra day of rest. I do know Jim loved Christmas. My brother also died on the day our church calendar commemorates Stephen, the first deacon and martyr. I don’t know about a martyr, but my brother was a survivor. He had open-heart surgery, three cancers, and at least three strokes.

cousins

I did something I had never done before shortly after my brother died. I prayed to hear what he would like us to know about him. This message immediately came to me that my brother said:” I tried to be a good man, and I loved my family.”

“I tried to be a good man and loved my family.” So that was my brother’s message. He dearly loved his family and was very proud of his three sons. He loved his community, serving faithfully as a banker, a Boys and Girls Club member, and on the school board. I know he especially loved his church, where he also served faithfully.

Since the Episcopal Church is something we share, we often discussed it. However, we had the privilege of serving together at an altar only once. That was at our mother’s funeral, when we both served as Eucharistic ministers, passing the chalice. 

My brother was an eight o’clock churchgoer. They are a different breed, a little more private, quieter, and sometimes more reserved. They get the rector’s ear after the service, since so few people are present that early. My brother loved serving on the vestry, another rare breed. If an eight o’clocker is a lector or Eucharistic minister, they serve more often than those at the later service, as my brother did. I tried to talk my brother into becoming a deacon, which I think could have happened if he had more time. The church is in our family’s genes. It comes in many forms, but we cannot escape it.

Seiberts at my brother’s service

My brother was a believer, and there is no doubt that he now lives in the resurrection, just as he experienced so many resurrections in this life.

So today, I am sharing some memories of my brother, my only sibling. I miss him daily, especially on the holidays.

When we were children, I remember how we would wake up in the early morning, too excited to sleep and lie together in bed, hoping by some miracle that our parents would wake up early. He so loved Christmas. I honor him by sharing Christmas stories about him and celebrating the holiday as he loved to do. He always brought joy to my life, and I hope to continue sharing that joy, especially at this time of the year. Sometimes, when our family shares stories, I hear his distinctive laugh caught up in others, and I give thanks for our life together with him in our family.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/