Monthly Archives: December 2015

Branch

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

Bring the lamp near. Gaspar was accustomed to giving commands. Wealthy, of prominent lineage, tutored by notable scholars. Gaspar, together with his friend – a devotee to the heavenly bodies – studied the star chart until their half-finished tea went cold. Now. Let’s go have a look. Straightening themselves they moved outside. Lighted pinpoints blanketed the sky. The astrologer-scholar tilted…

Read More

Restricted God

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

If lameness means restricted mobility, God entered the world limping. It is called the incarnation. Polio visited me before my first birthday. I’ve limped all my life. The physical lameness came uninvited, an unwelcome intruder. God the eternal Word – constrained yes, but only by love – became flesh. Voluntarily. With no illusions. Who can take this in – the…

Read More

Yearning. Magi

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | 46 Comments

Something is amiss. What? What is it? The mutter passing through Melchior’s barely-parted lips was for no one’s ears. In one fashion or other – half-whispered, barely voiced, even silently within his thoughts – the nagging persisted.  Dozens of times it came since passing third watch. He had keenly followed his animal’s motions and moods from midnight till now. Beams…

Read More

Light Journey

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

A Christmas Tale that might have been  Balthazar rolled to his side. Though he had slept, he was long from home and, thus, not well rested. Besides, slumber is meant for night time. His eyes opened to barely a sliver and held there. Pulling in a slow breath he noticed – even with his sliver of vision – the light…

Read More

Gravity

By | Running Life's Race With A Limp | No Comments

Tears pooled in my fifteen-year-old eyes. A paper with rhythmic ink lines lay open on the principal’s desk between us. He was an imposing man, Mr. S. And his bearing when wielding a paddle (concealed I knew somewhere in this room) provoked dread. Still, my tears rose from a sting greater than the forthcoming whoosh of the principal’s paddle. My…

Read More