A respite for writing?
I think I’ve gained myself a bit more time for writing…. My daughter’s car seat is in my office, where I brought it after she fell asleep on the way home from our weekly breakfast date/prayer time with my friend Timea this morning, and she played for a while in here as well after she woke up. I took a break to give her her lunch, and then for my own lunch with DH. But after DH left and she started rubbing her eyes, I put her in her crib. Well, she wasn’t having any of that — I always know it’s hopeless when she starts kicking the blankets, because moments later she’ll be bouncing around (her new nickname is Tigger — sometimes “Tiggress”!) and soon after that, wailing. So I decided I’d go get the mail a bit earlier than usual, and I put her in her jacket, put her in the seat and did up the straps — and she fell asleep again!! I’ve grabbed myself a Coke Zero and am trying to be “vewy vewy quiet” as I sit here typing.
It’s pretty nasty weather out there, so it’s not like I’m eager to go out until I have to, which will be when DH, Sara and I go to learn about the newly-revamped Weight Watchers program at 5:45. That gives me a couple of hours for writing — or five minutes, depending if and when my DD decides it’s time to wake up and have another meal. So I should get to it — but I thought, in light of the weather, the sweet baby sleeping beside me, and the fact that I have it up on my screen after DH found it for a friend of ours, that I would share the full lyrics to “In the Bleak Midwinter”, as opposed to the better known first and last lines. (And yes, I know Christ likely wasn’t born IN winter, and especially not in a snowy climate, but metaphorically at least, it’s very accurate — “earth stood hard as iron” and all that.)
In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan,
Earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone;
Snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow,
In the bleak midwinter, long ago.
Our God, heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain;
Heaven and earth shall flee away when He comes to reign.
In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed
The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.
Enough for Him, Whom cherubim worship night and day,
Breastful of milk, and a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him, Whom angels fall before,
The ox and ass and camel which adore.
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air;
But His mother only, in her maiden bliss,
Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.
What can I give Him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb;
If I were a wise man, I would do my part;
Yet what I can I give Him… give my heart.
ETA: Bah — spoke too soon. She woke up less than a minute after I pressed “publish” on this post. Guess it’s time to go make a bottle…