"External Oasis........................."

More and more, in growing older I find myself content with silence, solitude, and serenity whenever and wherever it comes to me. Quiet moments are now sought, secured as much as possible, and seen as treasure in a world where it seems true peace can only be found through an inner experience. For me, such time is mostly found in small doses here and there, driving alone for some short distance, just me and the Holy Ghost lost in thought, sitting on a bench in the back yard when the weather is warmer, or early morning sessions in the recliner pictured here. The fire is but an electric heater, as the fireplace has been abandoned to the antiquity that this small rock house has now acquired. Beth and I are in much the same shape, opting this year for no Christmas tree, no trimmings whatsoever, and no bustle since the daughters are now hosting the holidays. The mantle has been passed. What this old man misses is the nativity set purchased for me one year by the oldest girl and returned to her a decade later to ensure the heirloom might eventually be given to one of her boys. In so much as me possessing “Ho-Ho spirit” in any other sense than memories of this season as shared with all my other relatives, family as I have known it throughout my life, celebration of this particular event is but a piece of the bigger picture, one including the Cross and the empty tomb, one wherein Christ is not any certain day, but the whole of my existence. The various dolls arranged across that ledge are but a few collected by Beth along the way. She was never one for jewelry or flowers, her tastes more for American Girl and Hummel figurines, purses and those pink Hostess snowballs. What has both her heart and mine, though, is framed on the wall, all the grandchildren along with a portrait of her parents sketched by me nearly four decades ago. Relatives, friends, many of whom have already gone on, surround us in almost every room; but it is this spot that is favored by me. Here I sit with my Bible, or a particular author of some genre or another, scribbling something or other that comes to me, often just ceasing to talk with Him in short attempts at prayer. It never lasts long. The clock ticks and the day comes forth with all the busyness that humanity can stuff into another click of the calendar. Here we go again. Within me, however, the tie still binds and I shall return…...