Echoes From the Campfire

It’s likely that you can remember
          A corral at the foot of a hill
          Some mornin’ along in December
          When the air was so cold and so still.
          When the frost lay as light as a feather,
          And the stars had jest blinked out and gone.
          Remember the creak of the leather
          As you saddled your hoss in the dawn?”
                –Bruce Kiskaddon

    “Then she gave birth to her firstborn Son, and she wrapped Him snugly in cloth and laid Him in a manger–because there was no room for them at the inn.”
                –Luke 2:7 (HCSB)
Friends, this is just one of those days.  There’s only one like it in the year.  Some of those yuppie, new age type folk will celebrate sometime today for it is the Winter Solstice.  Whatever that means to you, all I know is that it is the shortest day of the year.
    However, this is another day not like any other.  This is the day of possibly the last Echos From the Campfire for 2018.  There may be a Perc or two, but I doubt if there’ll be another Echo this year.  Nah, my pen has not run out of ink, and while I will admit, the ol’ gray-matter sometimes runs low on thoughts, the truth of the matter is that ol’ Ira, here is going to rest until the first of the year.  “Rest!” you declare, “ain’t you retired?  So you reckon I’m a-restin’ all the time are you?
Well, think what you may.  So, I’m just going to throw out a few thoughts to tide you over, at least through Tuesday.

          “I like to recall the Christmas night.
              The tops of the mountains capped with white.
           The stars so bright they seemed to blaze,
              and the foothills swum in a silver haze.
           Them good old days is past and gone.
              The time and the world and the change does on.
           And you cain’t do things like you used to do
              when cattle was plenty and folks was few.”
                     –Bruce Kiskaddon

I can remember a few Christmas nights like this.  Your breath seemed to freeze in the cold, winter night.  The stars were shining and the light of the moon would shine down on the Rockies and the snow-capped peaks seemed to glimmer, and almost glow.  The good old days–things have changed.  I don’t care where you go, it is not the same; I’m so thankful for the wonderful memories that I have stored up.  The glow doesn’t seem to be there, and the brightness and crispness of the night, well, it’s not as fervent as years past.  Call it pollution, call it whims of an ol’ man, call it progress, call it what you want, but things have changed.
    The words of the famed preacher of years past, John Henry Jowett that was preached December 25, 1918, ring forth with truth:

            “And we have overlooked the first phrase, the phrase which is casual and causative–‘glory to God in the highest.’  We have been concerned about fruits, but we have been careless about roots… We have been expecting man to be right with man before man was right with God.”

We do not seem to be concerned much anymore with the roots.  Christmas should draw us back to it though.  Glory to God, all should relate back to Him.  In the Christmas season this year don’t forget to look to Him, the author and founder and completer of our faith.  Go back to your “roots” for a while, whether they are physical, mental, or spiritual.
    From our household, have a very MERRY CHRISTMAS!