Proverbs 3:5-6
5 Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.
6 In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.
James Loynes has a tender, loving voice which is perfect for this song. You can feel his adoration of the Savior. The pictures are beautiful. Enjoy
"And His Name Shall Be Called Wonderful"
Unto us on this holy night
Unto us beneath a new star's light
Unto us where the lambs have fed
Gently laid in a manger bed
Unto us a child is born
Unto us a son is given
I have used more of my poetry this year than any other. I wrote this poem over the last 2 days. It reflects my hope in Christ.
Hope in Swaddling Clothes
The world was tired, hearts were worn,
Waiting, longing for hope to be born.
Through quiet birth, God made a way,
To change the darkness of night into the brightness of day.
A newborn child in swaddling bands,
Lay in His mother's arms – the hope of all lands.
There was no trumpet sound, no royal sign,
Heaven acknowledged His birth divine.
Christ met each broken soul,
Mended all wounds, restored all whole.
Across our lands tonight,
Hope still glows in Christmas light.
In whispered prayers and humble tears,
Christ draws close, removes our fears.
Swaddled hope still speaks so clear,
God is near, God is here.
Through every loss and victory won,
Hope remains in Christ the Son.
Baking powder donut holes
Step 1: Mix dry ingredients together:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 1/2 T baking powder
1/2 t salt
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg, optional
Step 2: In separate bowl Whisk together
1 large egg
1 cup whole milk
1/2 - 1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 cup melted butter
Step 3: Combine wet and dry ingredients until blended. Do not overbeat.
*Vegetable oil is the best oil for frying as it doesn’t flavor the donuts.
Line a baking sheet with a few layers of paper towels, then top with a wire cooling rack. Set aside. Pour oil into a heavy bottomed pan until oil is about 2” deep. Heat over medium heat until oil reaches 350 degrees. Adjust heat as necessary to maintain that temp. Use a cookie scoop to scoop up the batter. Drop the dough into the oil from just above the oil to minimize splashing. Hot oil burns! Be careful. Fry 1- 2 minutes per side. Remove to cooling rack.
I see reminders of Him everywhere. We can move closer to Him each day as we reflect upon the symbols of his birth and life which surround us. Ever(eternally)green(the color of life) Christmas trees represent eternal life. The Christmas Star represents hope and the guiding light of Christ. Candles reflect the light of Christ and symbolize hope and the warmth of the season. The wreath’s shape represents God's unending love. The Angels on top of our tree represent the holy messengers of God. They symbolize peace and goodwill. The Poinsettia’s red leaves remind us of the blood of Christ, while its green leaves symbolize life. Holly’s prickly leaves symbolize the crown of thorns worn by Jesus; the red berries represent His blood. The gifts we give and receive represent generosity and the spirit of giving. Bells symbolize joy and celebration. Snowflakes are unique and beautiful, they symbolize the beauty of creation and the purity of the season. Tinsel represents the light of Christ in our lives. Nativity scenes remind us of the birth of Jesus Christ. They’re a reminder of the humble beginnings of the Savior, our Lord, our King. Remember Him. ~~ Marilee
Bailey’s Jesus
(by Ginger LaGrone Tucker) found at the these internet sites
The sun is shining: Bailey's Jesus (chondima.blogspot.com)
Do You Know Bailey's Jesus? - Ginger Tucker (beulahfoundationforchrist.blogspot.com)
God recently allowed me to see Jesus through the eyes of someone seeing Him for the first time. Having the advantage of knowing how the story ends, we can easily forget the cost of our redemption and the love of our Savior.
Every year we attend a local church pageant at Christmas time, which tells the story of Jesus from His birth through His resurrection. It is a spectacular event, with live animals and hundreds of cast members in realistic costumes. The magi enter the huge auditorium on llamas from the rear, descending the steps in pomp and majesty. Roman soldiers look huge and menacing in their costumes and makeup.
Of all the years we have attended, one stands out indelibly in my heart. It was the year we took our then three-year-old granddaughter, Bailey, who loves Jesus. She was mesmerized throughout the entire play, not just watching, but involved as if she were a player. She watched as Joseph and Mary traveled to the Inn and was thrilled when she saw the baby Jesus in His mother’s arms.
When Jesus, on a young donkey, descended the steps from the back of the auditorium, depicting His triumphal entry into Jerusalem, Bailey was ecstatic. As he neared our aisle, Bailey began jumping up and down, screaming, “Jesus, Jesus! There’s Jesus!” Not just saying the words but exclaiming them with every fiber of her being. She alternated between screaming his name and hugging us. “It’s Jesus. Look!” I thought she might actually pass out.
Tears filled my eyes as I looked at Jesus through the eyes of a child in love with Him, seeing Him for the first time. How like the blind beggar screaming out in reckless abandon, “Jesus, Jesus!”, afraid he might miss Him, not caring what others thought. This was so much fun.
Then came the arrest scene. On stage, the soldiers shoved and slapped Jesus as they moved Him from the Garden of Gethsemane to Pilate. Bailey responded as if she were in the crowd of women, with terror and anger. “Stop it!” she screamed. “Bad soldiers, stop it!” As I watched her reaction, I wished we had talked to her before the play. “Bailey it’s OK. They are just pretending.” “They are hurting Jesus! Stop it!”
She stood in her seat reacting to each and every move. People around us at first smiled at her reaction, thinking “How cute!” Then they quit smiling and began watching her watch Him. In a most powerful scene, the soldiers led Jesus carrying the cross down the steps of the auditorium from the back. They were yelling, whipping, and cursing at Jesus, who was bloodied and beaten. Bailey was now hysterical. “Stop it! Soldiers! Stop it,” she screamed. She must have been wondering why all these people did nothing. She then began to cry instead of scream. “Jesus, Oh, Jesus!” People all around us began to weep as we all watched this devoted little disciple see her Jesus beaten and killed as those first century disciples had.
Going back and forth between her mother’s lap and mine for comfort, she was distraught. I kept saying, “Bailey, it’s OK. Jesus is going to be OK. These are just people pretending to be soldiers.” She looked at me like I was crazy. In my lap, we talked through the cross and burial. “Watch, Bailey, watch for Jesus!”
The tomb began to tremble and lightning flashed as the stone rolled away. A super bowl touchdown cheer couldn’t come close to matching this little one’s reaction to the resurrection. “Jesus! He’s OK. Mommy, it’s Jesus!”
I prayed that she wasn’t going to be traumatized by this event, but that she would remember it. I shall never forget it. I shall never forget seeing Jesus’ suffering, crucifixion, and resurrection.
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