Against the World

I discovered this poem in my briefcase.  It was written sometime around 1996. It describes a  - wrestler's struggle for victory.   Now to all my kids - yes, this was written for Drew.  Now please don't mutter like I would - "How come Dad never wrote a poem for me?"  I have you all written on my heart.  It just takes time to get it in verse.  I hope that this poem has application for all young men.


Against the world, a man is born
To fight and win with armor worn
The victory cry is his desire
A destiny fulfilled with fire

And so while young a boy is taught

That one's success cannot be bought
Without the struggle and the strife
For blood, and sweat, and tears are life

His muscles stretch, they're firm and sore

Prepared to fight the righteous war
If he can train with strain and stress
He surely will achieve his quest

He must do more than others can

If he'll succeed and be a man
Commitment, dedication, soul
All effort to a single goal

Eliminate unfocused work

And all unchanneled effort shirk
Forsake the rest, abandon all
Unless he does, he risks a fall

And then the battle is arrayed

And now his skill will be displayed
With firmness now he grasps the foe
With ready balance for the throw

The match proceeds and training's pay

Confounds the foe and thwarts his way
The power's smooth, the movement strong
To prove the adversary wrong

So grip and throw and grasp and shove

This battle isn't won with love
Intense and rigid, tight and sure
With taut emotion he'll endure

It even helps to hate a mite

To foil the adversary's fight
For certain victory can't be won
Until an all-out effort's done

And then a small and slight mistake

Gives the foe his needed break
And now his clutch of awful woe
Is focused on a headlong throw

The hero reels, his vision blurs

The focused training's all astir
It was so quick and skillf'ly done
It's over fast, the foe has won

Another battle soon will come

A new opponent known not from
A given place, or clime, or state
Yet aiming for a similar fate

And how will now the good man plan?
Is this foe more than just a man?
Will sweat and effort win the day
Or can there be another way?

What is the price for victory here?

Can work alone dispel the fear?
Of failure and defeat and rout
How will the villain be ripped out?

A young man's face is rendered wet

The tears do come amidst his fret
How can this awful victory win
When all his work was free from sin?

The air is still, a quiet voice

Proffers now a different choice
“There is a way to vanquish strife
And win rewards enriching life

Each battle fought severely sore

Does not become the total war
Victory's guarantee is love
Sought from the Father up above”

How can it be, where is the way?

This can't be how to win the day
The hero has not yet been taught
To win without his effort fraught

The voice again begins to teach

“The triumph's well within your reach
But only as you make your plan
Conform to His, the Son of Man”

And now what is this wondrous plan

That makes a boy become a man?
Just how can heaven mold a lad
To win the prize he's never had?

“Rewards are many, but there's one

That's worth them all, when all is done
The Lord, your master, came to show
Eternal life should be your goal

All worldly strife He has endured

Life beyond death, He has ensured
The pain, and sweat, and blood of work
He made no effort e'er to shirk

And yet He showed a better path

To conquer opposition's wrath
Lift up your sight, look higher still
And focus on the Father's will

Just give yourself to Him above

And let Him show you how to love
It conquers fear, and strife, and woe
It conquers all that's here below

It takes a heart that's keen to hear

His whispers felt, not heard with ear
A soft approach, not harsh, provides
A better way to make life's strides

A gift to young men built for love

That fits him like a molded glove
The Lord gave man, because he could
A service gift, that's called Priesthood

It's given to protect and care

And make life good and shun despair
Within it man can find his role
And move directly to God's goal

When magnifying Priesthood right

Our yoke is easy, burdens light
And how the adversary runs
The Priesthood power's force he shuns

So now about the worldly war

It's time to let His victory soar
And when His will is done, there'll be
A win that's for eternity.

KPCW - One more time

Goldilocks and the Three Bears - http://kpcw.org/2012/12/the-story-mine-dec-9th/

The Story Mine

Check the "Story Mine" at KPCW radio to hear Billie's "Belly Button Monster" story at http://kpcw.org/2012/10/the-story-mine-the-ballad-of-dakota-pete/   Also, my song "I'm Gonna Do This By Myself" at http://kpcw.org/2012/12/the-story-mine-dec-2nd/  .The story mine broadcasts on Sunday morning at 8:30.

The Spider's Christmas

Here's another Christmas story.  It is an old German legend which I am retelling in my own version.

The Spider's Christmas 

Sammy the spider was in a hurry.  The word had gone out.  It was moving day.  The dust clouds were swirling up from the cabin floor, pushed by Grinnel's swishy-swashy motion as she swept and swept.  It was the day before Christmas and it was time for her annual cleaning as she got the cabin ready for her Christmas tree.  The cat and the dog were running about, and quickly dodged out the doorway when Grinnel opened it up to sweep out the dirt and debris.  Sammy and the other spiders quickly climbed up the walls into the rafters and attic of the abode.  From tiny cracks in the ceiling they peered down as Grinnel worked.  She swept the corners, destroying all the intricate webwork of the spiders.  New webs would have to be spun, but not until after Christmas.

In the barnyard outside the animals were in commotion.   They knew it was Christmas time too, and they trudged about in the snowy yard, braying and neying and mooing and quacking and oinking and baaing.  They stamped the snow down as they walked back and forth, back and forth, waiting for Grinnel. 

“Now you just be patient,” Grinnel called.  “I don't even have the tree yet.”  She didn't move as fast as she wanted.  She just wasn't as spry as she used to be.  Years of hard work had taken its toll.
The animals all moaned in reply.

The spiders all gathered to the widest cracks to get a better view.  They didn't dare sneak out for fear of Grinnel's broom.  Sammy expected that it would be another uncomfortable Christmas – all trapped in the attic until the festivities were over.

Grinnel finished her sweeping, then snagged her coat, hat and gloves from pegs on the wall.  Then she sat on a chair next to the door and put on her boots, tying the laces tightly at the top.  She swung her scarf around her neck and grabbed the axe leaning up on the door frame.  She pulled the door open and stepped out into the yard .  The spiders all scurried to the attic vent where they could peek out and get a better view as Grinnel pulled the door shut behind her.

The animals all called out “Hooray” in their very best animal languages.  Grinnel was on her way to cut a Christmas tree.  She found a small sled on the side of the house and dragged it across the snow behind her.  The farm was right up next to Blue Mountain, and she didn't have to hike very far to find a perfect tree.  Grinnel was old, but was still strong from years of maintaining the farm all by herself.  A few well placed strokes brought a small tree down, and she lifted it up on the sled.

When the animals saw Grinnel approaching they all shouted several animal language “hoorays.”   She pulled the sled up to the front door, then lifted the tree off of the sled.   She shook the tree as best she could to get all the snow off.  The tree was wider than the doorway to the cabin and she had to twist and turn and push and shove to get in in.  Finally the tree sprung into the cabin, after dropping a few hundred needles on the newly swept floor.  Grinnel had an old wash tub she had filled with rocks to place the tree in.  She stuffed it in and piled the rocks about the trunk to support it.  Then she closed the door, removed her coat and winter gear,  and sat down to admire the tree.

The animals in the yard began to howl.  Grinnel always allowed them in to see the decorated tree on Chrismas eve.  They were having a hard time waiting as they anticipated the chance to come in and see the decorations.  Sammy and the spiders in the attic all moved back to the tiny cracks in the ceiling to get a limited view of what was going on.

Grinnel sighed.  To herself she said, “Not much for decorations this year.  Times are hard, and there just isn't enough to get anything fancy.  What I have is what'll have to do.”  She tore some paper bags  into strips, and then tied a few brown bows on some of the branches.  There was an old rope in the barnyard that she pulled out of the snow, shook it off, and then draped in on the branches as a garland.  She had six candles in holders that she attached to the tree limbs.  A few clusters of orange berries she had gathered from the hillside provided a little bit of color.  “I guess that will have to do.”

Grinnel went to her bed in the corner of her cabin and got down on her knees to look under the bed.  She reached far under the springs and pulled out an old shoe box.  She lifted off the lid and carefully unwrapped the newspaper surrounding some crude wooden figures of a nativity scene.   Last year's early winter had kept Grinnel housebound for a couple of weeks before Christmas, and she used the time to create these figures while she was cooped up inside.  She had cut some branches into small 6 inch shafts to create the figures, carefully peeling off the bark on the end where she etched in faces.  Cuttings with short branches provided arms for her figures.  Animals were carved in resting positions from larger branches.  The figures were not very realistic, but they conveyed a simple elegance and beauty.  The Christ child in a manger was cut from a bark-free piece of whitish wood and was warm, even a bit radiant, to look upon.  Grinnel quietly arranged the pieces under the tree, then sat down and rested while she gazed upon the scene.

The animals in the barnyard expressed their restlessness again, and Grinnel got up from her chair and went to the door. 

“I'm coming, I'm coming.  I know, you want to see too.  Just be patient.  I'm coming.”

She swung open the front door. The sun had come out and was glistening on the snow.  Grinnel  grabbed her coat, hat and gloves and walked out into the sunshine.  “Ducks first, this year,” she announced.  The ducks quacked loudly in agreement.  She walked to their pen and undid the latch to the gate.  The ducks waddled quickly to to cabin door, pecking at the loose pine needles on the floor as they went.   They went up to the tree and cocked their heads this way and that to see it all from different angles.   They bent their heads down to look at the nativity figures.  Grinnel was afraid they would peck at them, but as they got closer to them, they kept a reverent distance, while examining them in detail.  Then Grinnel ushered them out into the barnyard and closed them into their pen.
In a similar fashion, Grinnel carefully ushered each group of animals to come and observe the tree and the cresch she had created.  Each animal had hurried right up to the cabin door, but then entered and observed with a quiet reverence.  They seemed to know that there was something special about the tree and the nativity set.  Sanctity descended upon them one by one as they entered the cabin.  When they were all through they were no longer restless.  A quiet peace prevailed in the barnyard.

The spiders had watched all this, but hadn't ventured out.  They noticed the proximity of Grinnel's broom, and stayed warily out of sight and out of reach.  How Sammy and the others yearned to creep out and get a better view.  But the older spiders had warned them of impending doom.  They knew that Grinnel hated spiders and did not want them in her home at all in the winter time.  So they kept out of sight.  There were probably 30 of them all hiding in the ceiling.

Grinnel yawned.  The sun was going down now, and darkness descended.  She lit the candles on the tree and sat at the table eating a few morsels of dinner, as she stared at her illuminated tree. Small shadows dashed across the nativity figures below the tree, almost animating them.  She ate slowly, contemplating her Christmas display.

At length, her eyes became heavy and she quietly dressed for bed.  She knelt beside the tree as she said her evening prayers, then she climbed into her bed, leaving the candles to burn through the night.
Sammy waited until he was sure Grinnel was asleep, then he carefully crept out on the wall below the ceiling.

“P-s-s-s-t!  Where are you going?”  loudly whispered Sammy's father.

“I'm going to see the tree. Right up close,” Sammy responded.

“But, you can't do that.  What if Grinnel wakes up?  What if you get trapped down there and can't get back up?  What if....What if....?”

Sammy couldn't hear him any more, he was far down the wall.  He spotted a branch of the tree brushing up against the wall and headed right for it.   The  other spiders watched, and then a few of the young ones crept out too.  Then pretty soon all the spiders crawled down onto the tree.  Then a real party began.

Spiders crawled all over the tree, going up and down the branches, jumping from one level to another, and everywhere they went they spun fine grey webs behind them.  It didn't take long until the whole tree was covered with webs, with intricate designs as well as random patterns.
Then suddenly, there was a sound on the roof.  A soft “clunk” followed by soft poundings in the snow.  The spiders were attentive, and scurried back up into the attic, fearing discovery.  Soot shook down the chimney, and then a large man in a red suit bent down and ducked under the chimney opening. He dropped the bag he was carrying in surprise as he looked at the tree.

“My, my, someone has been busy here.  This beautiful little tree is covered with cobwebs!  Hmmmm...what shall we do?   What shall we do with this tree?  I have nothing in my bag to take care of this.  All I have in my suit is this little bag of fairy dust that the elves gave me to help lighten the weight of the sleigh for the reindeer.  I wonder what would happen if....”

Santa took the bag of fairy dust and sprinkled it lightly on the web covered tree.  The dust magically turned the spider webs into strands of silver!  He sprinkled it all over, until every spider web had turned into glistening silver!

“Ha, Ha,” he laughed. “This be a fitting gift for Grinnel.”  And with that he put the remaining dust in his pocket and picked up his bag and rose up the chimney. 

As the sun's rays began to stream through the windows in the early morning on Christmas day, the silvery mesh about the tree reflected dazzling light throughout the cabin.  Grinnel was awakened by the  radiance of the light in the room.  She stretched in her bed then sat up and turned to see the tree.  Her jaw fell open as she gazed on the magnificence of the scene.  She got up and walked over to the tree.  Looking down she saw the nativity scene, surrounded with woven strands of silver.  The reflection of the light from strands created a halo like glow about the figures.  Grinnel knelt in reverence before the cresch. 

The spiders in the ceiling celebrated.  Never had their handiwork been more appreciated.  The barnyard animals noticed reflected light streaming out the windows of the cabin, and came to peer in.  A quiet awe encircled Grinnel's home that day, and she basked in the warmth of the attendant spirit that seemed to have as its center the tiny nativity scene.

People all about heard about the Grinnel's miracle, and from that day to this, have decorated their Christmas tree with strands of tinsel and spider ornaments, signifying the celebration of the spiders and the glorious transformation of the webs into strands of silver.  And that is how it came to be that people everywhere place tinsel on their Christmas trees.

Wiley and the Hairy Man

Yeah, I know - I'm all over the place. A long time ago I recorded a folktale of "Wiley and the Hairy Man" - Peter's favorite story when he was younger. It's a little long so I couldn't find a good way to post the audio file. I recently found a way to play the file from Dropbox. So I invite you to give it a listen. Sit next to the little ones though - I've been told it's a little intense. Wiley and the Hairy Man

Gingerbread Cookies

Kneader's Bakery is producing a new line of cookies - gingerbread men.  They are having a promotion on December 3rd from 7:00 to 8:00 p.m. at Utah locations where they will be giving out free cookies.  They have hired members of the Utah Storytelling Guild to tell the story of the Gingerbread Man at this event.  I was fortunate enough to be selected to tell at the new Ogden location.   I can tell other stories too, so (blame it on Frontrunner) I penned a little ditty that maybe I'll put to music to use, along with the Gingerbread Man story on http://smalltales1.blogspot.com .  Here it is:

Gingerbread Cookies

There's a ruckus in the kitchen, somethin's smellin' real good

You can sniff it through the window in the neighborhood
It's enough to stop the action of your play goin' on
So it's time to go and find 'em 'cause they'll soon be gone, they're

CHORUS:

Gingerbread, gingerbread, gingerbread cookies

Momma's gone and baked us some gingerbread cookies
Comin' from the oven hot and steamy looky looky
Can't get enough o' them gingerbread cookies
Momma's little baby loves gingerbread, gingerbread
Momma's little baby loves gingerbread men

Eat 'em when they're warm and soft, it's quite a treat

Then dip 'em in a glass of milk, they can't be beat
You can eat 'em in the morning, you can eat 'em in the night
You can eat 'em in the dark, you can eat 'em in the light

You can eat 'em in the bathtub, you can eat 'em in your bed
You can eat 'em when you're hungry, but don't eat 'em when you're dead
You can eat 'em with a fork, you can eat 'em with a knife
If you eat 'em when you need 'em, they might save your life

(CHORUS)

You can eat 'em when you're happy, you can eat 'em when your sad

You can eat 'em with your mom, you can eat 'em with your dad
You can eat 'em when you're workin' you can eat 'em when you play
You can eat 'em when the sun's up, you can eat 'em every day

You can eat 'em in the bakery you can eat 'em in the store

You can take 'em home and eat 'em then you'll eat a lot more
You can eat 'em when you're quiet, you can eat 'em when your loud
Now this eat 'em song is over so you should be proud of

(CHORUS)

The Littlest Christmas Bell

I heard the following story 40 years ago when I was a member of a singing group at Utah State University known as "The Sounds of Zion." At that time the story ended with Santa saying, "I'm afraid you're right, it's just too little." I thought the story was way funny, and have since tried to tell it to several other people. Every time I tell it and give the punch line, they just look at me like I'm weird or something. I wanted to learn a Christmas story, but I guess the disappointing ending doesn't work for me real well. So, I have added on to the ending so that I can use this story with my storytelling. I hope you like it.

The Littlest Christmas Bell

In a small village near the Austrian Alps was a tiny little bell-maker's shop. It was just a few days before Christmas and a light snow was falling on an already snow-packed ground. Villagers were scurrying about the shops in town, trying to complete their Christmas shopping.

The little old bell maker was busy in his shop, carefully arranging the bells he had to entice his customers. People liked bells at Christmas-time, and his business had been brisk and profitable. He had sold everything from large church bells, to small hand-rung bells. There was, in town, a resident bell choir that always performed during the Christmas season. Jingle bells had been particularly popular this year among the townspeople, and he had just one tiny jingle bell left, displayed on a top shelf near the back of his shop. The bell had been there a long time, and the dust on the shelf testified of its lengthy stay. Still, the little bell rested patiently, awaiting the time when it surely would be sold.

The days passed, and customers passed in and out, emptying the shop of its inventory. Still, the jingle bell waited patiently, wondering just who would purchase him and how he would be used. Then finally, it was the day before Christmas, and the traffic inside the shop dropped off dramatically, as the people in the village completed their holiday shopping and retired to their home for final preparations. The old bell maker strolled about the shop, peering out the window just before dusk. Darkness descended as the evening came on, and the lights in the bell-maker's shop beamed through the windows highlighting the folds in the snow. An old clock on the wall slowly ticked into the night. Six o' clock came, and the man began to pull down the shades of his shop, and lock the door. He quietly turned out the lights in the shop one by one, then turned toward the door while retrieving his keys from his pocket.

The tiny little Christmas bell sat in dismay. Christmas was nearly here, and he was still on the shelf. He had been looked at many times by patrons of the shop, but the comments were always “too little “, “just too little.” Maybe it was true. He was just too little. Nobody wanted a tiny little jingle bell.

The shopkeeper finished locking the front door while a big tear formed on the jingle bell's cheek, then slid down into the dust, making a tiny mud puddle there on the shelf. The shopkeeper walked to the back of his shop, turned out the lights, then exited through the doorway to his living quarters in the rear of the building. The shop was dark. The tiny little bell cried softly on the shelf. “Dingle, dingle, dingle.” How he wanted to be taken home by someone to celebrate Christmas.

The snow outside began to come down harder, in large flakes that piled up quickly all over the village. Lights in the cottages and homes turned out one by one as the night deepened. A quiet stillness settled in as the villagers retired to their beds for the night. The littlest Christmas bell was still sobbing quietly when a distant sound caught his attention. There was something jostling in the air above the village, growing louder and louder as it approached the bell shop. The sound was of - - bells, jingle bells ringing clear but unevenly as the sound became closer and closer. Then suddenly, there was a big clunk that shook the ceiling of the shop, and then several pounding noises. Something was stomping around on the roof! There was more than one, there had to be lots of them. The bell was struck with wonder about the noise and commotion on the top of the building.

Then an amazing thing happened. Just across the shop from the shelf where the bell rested was a large stone fireplace. Suddenly, chunks of soot crashed down to the floor of the fireplace, creating a small puff of smoke inside the room. Then, with a loud thump, two large black boots appeared, with red-clad legs poking out the top. A large, white-bearded man bent down and squeezed through the opening in the fireplace. Lights flickered on in the shop, as the old shopkeeper entered from the hallway at the end of the room, awakened by the noise from the chimney. He squinted hard to see, then said, “Santa? Is that you, Santa?”

“Ho-ho-ho Merry Chistmas, M-e-r-r-y Christmas!”

“Why Santa, how kind of you to stop in my humble shop. But you musn't spend much time here. There are no children here.”

“Ho-ho, I know, I know. But I need your help, good bell-maker. It's a very stormy night outside, with lots of snow. My reindeer are having a hard time navigating. The rhythm of the bells on the sleigh harness is a great help to them on such a night as this. But you see, we have lost one jingle bell off the harness along our way, and the missing jingle and jangle of that one bell have thrown my reindeer out of rhythm, making it difficult for them to pull together along our way. We are hoping you have just one more jingle bell to attach to the harness. Tell me, good bell-maker, do you happen to have such a bell?”

“Oh Santa,” the bell-maker replied, “'Tis the night before Christmas and sales have been brisk. It has been a good year for selling bells. I'm afraid my stock is depleted. See all the empty shelves?”

Santa looked back with a look of disappointment. “Then you don't have just one jingle bell that can fill that empty spot in my riggings?”

“I'm afraid not, San – but wait, there is just one tiny little jingle bell on my top shelf near the back. It's a good bell, but I'm afraid it may be too little – just too little.”

Santa's expression changed to one of hope. “Oh, do get it for me, good bell-maker. Please, let me see it.”

The bell-maker retrieved a ladder leaning against the wall and carried it over to the shelf. Carefully, he climbed up to where he could reach back and grasp the littlest jingle bell. He held the tiny bell between his right thumb and fore-finger, and climbed back down the ladder. He held up the bell and looked through his spectacles as he moved over toward the light.

“It's a bit dirty,” he said, then blew on the bell and rubbed it against his night shirt to polish it up.

“Oh, put it in my hand,” said Santa. “Let me get a good look at this precious little bell.”

The bell-maker placed the bell in the center of Santa's enormous palm. The jingle bell was dwarfed by the huge folds of skin around the center of Santa's palm. He held it up close to his eyes and examined it closely, turning it from one side to the next. Then he shook the bell gently to hear it ring.

“Dingle Dingle”

“Ho-ho-ho. It's really cute. But....but...but... I'm afraid you're right, it's too little! Just too little!

(pause)

“But I'll try it anyway. Santa took the bell and turned excitedly toward his sleigh. He quickly walked over to the sled and up to the lead reindeer. He reached down to where the jingle bells were on the reins. He had to get down on his hands and knees to reach way underneath the lead deer to where there was a place on the strap where a jingle bell was missing. As he stretched out his hand with the bell balancing on the end of his fingers, the bell rolled off of his glove and plunged into a huge snowbank. “Rats!” Santa said, “we don't have time to look for it, we're just going to have to go without it. It was too little. Just too little”

Just then, Rudolf kicked in the snow and there was an unmistakeable jingle sound. Santa looked down and saw a gleam of light reflecting and reached down and pulled out the jingle bell. He wiped the snow off and then took off his glove and tightly gripped the jingle bell as he reached toward the fastener on the rein where the lost jingle bell had been. He twisted the bell to the right, then to the left, then pushed hard to get it attached. As he did so, he heard a “snap” and felt the tiny bell crush in his fingers. It was attached, but smashed. “Shucks”, said Santa. “That bell was too little. Just too little.”

Santa got up and brushed the snow from his bright red coat. “Man,” he said, “I really thought that bell was going to work. This is really disappointing. But I guess that's just life.” He walked back around the reindeer to his sled. He climbed up in his sleigh, sat down and grabbed hold of the reins. He looked ahead at the reindeer, then shouted out, “On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen, on Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen. And you too, Rudolf.” He shook the reins hard. There was a curious ring from the sleigh bells. There was a distinctive “Ding ding-le” after the jingle of all the bells. It was coming from the littlest Christmas bell! The reindeer were startled by this out-of-place sound and leaped in the air, giving the sleigh a mighty jerk. The sled sprung into the air as Santa shouted out “Up, up, and away.” They dashed into the night, with sleigh bells jingling, and every once in a while, if you listened real close, you could hear a distinctive noise, just a little different than all the others, that rang out “Ding Ding-le, Ding, Ding, ding-le.” It was as if the littlest Christmas Bell was calling out “Too-Little, just too little.” It was just different and odd enough to keep the reindeer alert as they traveled through the night.

And so Santa made his rounds that night with the sound of a bell that made a sound different than all the rest, and who by all accounts was “too-little,” “just-too-little.” And yet, that made a sound that could be heard by anyone who would really listen close, and provided a guide to the reindeer, and those who had the intent to give.

In another place, at another time, the little cry of a tiny infant evidenced the birth of one who was to be a guide through the darkness and perils of life. Born in a stable that was “too-little” in terms of comforts, and to parents who had “too-little” in terms of earthly wealth, his voice would soon sound a different way of life. The message he brought was one of comfort, peace, safety and joy to all “who would listen.” At this season may we hear the gospel tones of the Lord Jesus Christ as we celebrate his birth and life which gives hope to all, even to those who feel that they are just “too little.” May you all cherish His gifts of Life and Joy as you provide love and service to others. And don't forget – Ding-dingle, Ding-ding-dingle.”