Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Life is Pure Magic

I'm pretty sure this is the longest I've gone without blogging since I began hanging out at Sue's News, Views 'n Muse back in 2008. The Christmas blur kind of overtook me, and now here we are at New Year's Eve, with 2014 staring us in the face. And you know what? I kinda like the look of it!

I am more than ready for a new year, because I have big plans, groundbreaking (for me) ideas, and lots of cool things I want to do. First and foremost, I am going to lose some serious weight, and I'm putting it out here for all to see because I mean what I say. My sister lost every single extra pound she was carrying around last year; and I have decided if she can do it, I can do it. And I intend to do whatever it takes to get there, including exercise. Yes my friends, I mean business!

I am also going to update and optimize my poetry website in 2014. I may even give it an entirely new look, though I am pretty attached to the old one so that remains to be seen. Mainly, I want to make sure that the site is everything a search engine would like it to be. Susan Noyes Anderson Poems does get fairly good traffic, but I have a feeling my lack of knowledge has been holding it back from being the kind of resource I want to provide. It makes me happy to see my poems used non-commercially, and I'd like to see even more of that happening this year.

Another thing I look forward to is actually putting together and submitting the Christmas book I keep putting off for one reason or another. Over the years, I have written a sizable collection of Christmas stories, poems and songs, and the time has come to put it all together and see where it goes. I need a creatively challenging project, and this fits the bill perfectly.

I also want to be more conscious of increasing my spirituality and not just expecting that to take care of itself, because I find that it doesn't! As busy as I'm going to be, I will need to set aside specific time for prayer, scripture study, and quiet contemplation. It's time to stop phoning it in, and I know the benefits because I have reaped them in years past. I want to make being in tune a priority in 2014.

Let me close by saying that I don't consider these things to be goals, because they are more than that for me. They are plans, firmly set, and I am going to execute them. Why? Because I want to! I'm even excited about the process.

So wish me well, my friends….just as I wish you well in the year to come. 2014 has a good feel to it, and I am going to do everything within my power to keep it that way!


{make it magical}

Friday, December 20, 2013

Epiphany: Joy to the World

Joy to the World, a Christmas Story
c2003, Susan Noyes Anderson
All Rights Reserved

Christmas was coming, but not a soul in the small village on the Austrian border could feel it. Last December the children had been singing in the streets; now, not 12 months later, German soldiers were marching in them. Joy was unthinkable that year, and peace and good will seemed no more than shadows of Christmases past. Elusive shadows...and sorely missed.

The occupation lay dark and heavy over the village, creating a blanket of fear and futility that threatened to destroy them. Even at Christmas, there were few candles flickering in the windows. It was, in sad truth, as if the light had deserted them completely––and not just in the homes and the streets, but in their very hearts and countenances. A bleak and dreary Christmas awaited them, for hope was as lost to these people as was their freedom.

Stefan braced himself against the winter chill and, setting his face into the wind, began the long walk home. He and his family lived on the outskirts of the village, and his coat was even more threadbare this year than in previous ones. Of course, it hadn’t mattered so much before...then his heart and been merry and his spirit warm...but tonight he felt the cold so intensely he couldn’t stop shivering. He couldn’t stop thinking either...about how awful it was to have those soldiers inhabiting the church...his church...or at least, he was responsible for it. He was responsible for meeting the spiritual needs of his congregation, and those needs were many. Yet he couldn’t even hold a decent meeting or offer the comfort of a Christmas Eve service. Who would ever have thought these villagers, a close-knit group of men, women, and children, would be forbidden to assemble as a people? It was unimaginable, but then, so was having to nod and smile at the German army. Some of them actually seemed to believe they were welcome. Now, that was unimaginable!

A sigh escaped Stefan’s lips and hung in the air, a cloud of warm vapor that did little to thaw his frozen cheeks. Ah well, at least he’d been able to get the medicine for Wilhelm. Hopefully the infection would heal soon, God willing. Little ones were such a blessing at times like these. Not that Will couldn’t feel his parents’ despair––and it did affect him––but the innocent heart of a child sometimes forgot the threat that enveloped their lives. And sometimes, a child could even help his parents forget. A small but genuine smile played at the corners of Stefan’s mouth as he recalled Will’s antics with the old cowbell his mother had hung, at his request, within reach of his sickbed.

“Okay Will,” she had said. “Only ring it if you really need me; I’m making strudel for the orphans, and we have far too many this year.”

The memory of her words deepened the lines on Stefan’s forehead, but the recollection of Will’s next action smoothed them again.

“Ring. Ring.” His chubby hands pushed the bell to and fro. Naturally, Mother came running.

“What is it, Will?” she asked worriedly.

“I need you,” he answered.

“But what do you need?” she queried.

“Just you,” he replied innocently. She couldn’t help but laugh a little and squeeze his cheek.

“I love you, Will. And I’ll be here for you, whenever you need me.”

Stefan’s face lit from within. What a dear little son he had. The boy had made an obvious effort not to ring the bell...or not very often...and he’d been pretty successful. A few times, though, he had just needed to ring that bell and know his mother was on the other end.

Stefan’s steps quickened as he rounded the corner and headed up the narrow path to his home. A flash of inspiration had set his thoughts racing. “Could it work?” he asked himself. “Would I be able to pull it off...and if so, would it make a difference?”

“I’m home, Leisel!” he called, “and I have the medicine...AND an idea.” After ministering to their son’s needs and tucking him in, they went into the candlelit kitchen, put their heads together over the table, and talked late into the night.

Morning dawned with an air of mystery, worry...and more excitement than Stefan could remember feeling in a very long time. Leisel seemed more in touch with the worry.

“It’s a grand gesture,” she said, “but is it worth risking your life, for that’s what you’ll be doing. And how would we go on without you?”

“I’ve prayed about it, Leisel. It’s the Lord’s will; I know it. And He will watch over me.”

“I pray you are right,” she murmured. “When will I see you again?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Stefan replied. “Christmas morning. And a glorious Christmas it will be, too.”

“God go with you,” breathed Leisel.

“And so He will,” promised her husband. “We are believers, and we need to remember that, even now.”

“Especially now,” she agreed.

Stefan spent the day visiting the sick and afflicted, offering what cheer he could to every soul he encountered. But the shadow remained. His people were in bondage, at least in their hearts, and the soldiers who lived amongst them had stolen their hope. Robbed of freedom, the citizens of this once proud Austrian village had lost themselves, their church…maybe even their God. Questions festered within them. How could the God they thought they knew have let this happen? Why would He allow the kind of human suffering this evil regime had visited upon the innocent? With men like this in control of their beloved country, what was left to believe in?

A day earlier, Stefan had felt the same, or nearly so, but on this Christmas Eve a spark of hope rekindled his spirit. He had to succeed. He would succeed.

Evening came, and Leisel sang carols to little Wilhelm. Together, they lit a candle, decorated a small tree, and set out their Christmas shoes. After Will was snuggled into bed with a hug and a prayer, his mother made her way to the kitchen and fell to her knees.

“Protect my husband,” she pled. “Bring him back to me.” The candle flickered in the window.

Hours later, when the village was fast asleep, Stefan crawled out of his hiding place near the old church where he had conducted services so many times before. Stealthily he made his way to the tower and painstakingly climbed the creaky steps. When he reached the top, his trembling fingers wrapped themselves around the strong, sturdy cord in the belfry. Smoothly, Stefan swung into action.

“Ring. Ring.” The evening silence was broken by the clear, beautiful, and almost forgotten sound of church bells.

“Ring. Ring.”

The sounds of hope filled the air...and courage...and freedom.

“Ring. Ring. Ring.”

Again and again the old bell rang, and Stefan’s heart thudded with joy...and fear. What would happen to him this night? How would the German occupiers react to this blatant disobedience of their orders? And the people...Would it make a difference? Would ringing the bells remind them that God was there for them...would always be there for them?

All at once, Stefan looked down, his eyes drawn by a break in the darkness. A flicker of light appeared, followed by another...and another...and still others. It was his friends and neighbors, fellow Austrians all, and they were walking, candles in hand, toward the church. He could hear the soldiers below, voices harsh and complaining as they traded a sound sleep for the sound of church bells...Christmas bells.

“What have I done?” Stefan worried. “The Germans are angry, and they will vent that anger on the villagers.”

He closed his eyes, as if to reach out and protect his flock with his very thoughts. “Don’t come,” he prayed silently. “I never meant you to come. The bells were a symbol, not a signal. Stay home. Be safe.”

But, one by one, the villagers came forward. Some were holding up their lights as if to touch the heavens (or mimic them); others were carrying children, but all were coming to the church on Christmas Eve, answering the bells, remembering in that moment that God was there for them and letting Him know that they were there for Him as well. Step by step, those men and women placed their physical safety second to their spiritual well-being, reminding each other (and themselves) not only who they were but whom they had always been...Believers. Austrian believers.

Stefan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw the group assemble in front of the unwillingly mustered German army. Had he made a mistake? He had only acted on the Lord’s promptings. Surely God would protect and defend His people.

Just as the German commander called his troops to attention, one of the children broke out in song. Stefan smiled ruefully. It was true, just as he had thought. Sometimes the innocent heart of a child forgets to be afraid.

Stille Nacht. Heilige Nacht. Silent Night. Holy night.

Many voices joined in, and invisible chains were broken in remembrance of a night like no other, a sacred night in ancient Bethlehem, when earth and heaven met and peace was promised.

And peace prevailed…for that moment, at least. Slowly, almost reverently, the soldiers turned and walked back into the silent church that had become their barracks. Meanwhile, the villagers sang, and Stefan spoke, and Christ was remembered.

Joy to the world. Peace on earth, good will toward men. No matter how cruel the trial or how difficult the season, we can honor Him…and ourselves. Every time we act in His name, for His sake, we are ringing those Christmas bells that proclaim Christ’s life and death and all they mean to us.

May the examples of young Will summoning his mother and Stefan reaching out to his congregation always ring true in our hearts. May we understand and embrace our need to gain strength and hope through ringing our own bells of faith, belief, and service…reminding ourselves that He is, and ever will be, on the other end.

~ The End ~

Longtime friends of Sue's News, Views 'n Muse know how much I love writing a Christmas Eve story for my family every year. I can't leak the 2013 tale prematurely, but it does give me great pleasure to share another story with you, one written many years ago. Joy to the World has become something of a family favorite, and I hope you will find something in it that is just for you. 

Merry Christmas, everyone!


Just Believe

Gifts from the Book of Life
The Fisher Kings: A Winter's Tale
In the Spirit of Christmas

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Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Devotional: A Child Was Born

A Christmas lyric by Susan Noyes Anderson
All Rights Reserved

I wonder just how Mary felt, when visited one day,
by Gabriel, who understood the role that she would play.

in bringing forth the Savior and nurturing with care
the precious little baby she would soon be called to bear.

I wonder what was in the mind of Joseph as he prayed.
Though he could not find shelter, he pressed forward, unafraid.

The road to Bethlehem was long and hard; the birth drew nigh…
but Joseph knew, and Mary too, the Father would provide.

Alleluia, the voices joined through all the years.
Noel, noel, the Son of Man was born.


Ring, Christmas bells, as music swells
in joyful hearts of men set free

We were lost, but now we’re found eternally,
and it all began that sacred Christmas morn.

I wonder if the shepherds spoke or uttered not a word,
as heavenly voices filled the air and every soul was stirred.

One star stood out from all the rest above a manger bare;
the Light of all the World in Mary’s arms was cradled there.

I wonder if the animals were gathered all around
and sensing His divinity, looked on without a sound.

Created by His hand, perhaps their natures were subdued
in reverence as they shared the comfort of that stable rude.

Alleluia, the voices joined through all the years.
Noel, noel, the Son of Man was born.

Ring, Christmas bells, as music swells
in joyful hearts of men set free

We were lost, but now we’re found eternally,
and it all began that sacred Christmas morn.

I wonder why the world has not remembered Christmas Day.
His sacred birth is often lost in meaningless display.

A Child was born, a Child was born…the Savior came to earth
to live for us and die for us; come celebrate the birth!

Alleluia, the voices joined through all the years.
Noel, noel, the Son of Man was born.

Ring, Christmas bells, as music swells
in joyful hearts of men set free

We were lost, but now we’re found eternally,
and it all began that sacred Christmas morn.

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Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Christmas: The Greatest Story Ever Told

Christmas: The Greatest Story
©2002 Susan Noyes Anderson

The greatest story that was ever told
has naught to do with soldiers, brave and strong.
It makes no boast of golden treasure found,
nor causes lost, nor valiant battle song.

There is no gallant steed, no damsel fair,
no rousing tale of daring escapade.
No banner bold is hoisted to the sky,
no arrow launched from stony balustrade.

The greatest story that was ever told
does not take place in ancient castle keep,
but in a barren stable, rude and low,
while all the world in darkness lies asleep.


"For unto us a Child is born, unto us a son is given; 
and the government shall be upon his shoulder; 
and His name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, 
the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace." 
Isaiah 9:6

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Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Blessed (and Grateful) Be

Sometimes my heart is washed in tears,
or overcome by foolish fears,

but most days find me safe from harm
with all I need to keep me warm.

 Though every life has best and worst,
I should be grateful last and first

for gifts I’m given, large and small,
that show me God is over all.

Tall trees rise up, embracing sky,
in colors pleasing to the eye.

My spirits soar as shades of blue
emerge through leaves of changing hue.

Each budding branch of early spring
erupts in anthems sparrows sing.

My fingers brush the velvet skins
of blossoms, and new life begins.

 My feet are grounded in the earth,
and they have carried me since birth

to places near and places far,
traveling under sun and star.

My fate belongs to me alone,
compelled by neither king nor throne.

I choose the pathway I will trod,
a freedom granted me by God.

 Words are my joy, their power profound:
unspoken, parsed, released to sound

or written on an empty page,
the hearts of others to engage.

 A family gathers ‘round me near:
loyal husband, children dear,

mother kind and father rare,
brothers and sisters beyond compare.

These golden treasures feed my soul,
comfort me, and make me whole.

The morning dawns and yields to night.
Sunrise. Sundown. All is right.

I offer gratitude each day,
my thanks a gentle price to pay

for blessings large and blessings small
that God extends to one and all.


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Friday, November 22, 2013

Alphabet Rebellion

                    b          c
Alphabet Rebellion
 ©1991 Susan Noyes Anderson

I'm dotting every I, and
I am crossing every T.
I'm putting letters down, and
I erase them frequently.

I'm holding whole words hostage
at the point of my pen.
If I don't like the way they look,
I scratch them out again.

G – R – U thinking like I am?
Could our ABCs rebel?
If they went out on a strike,
whatever would we use to spell?


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Monday, November 18, 2013

Protestation No. 24, Penned

I do not need thee; ‘tis a lie
to paint me weakened by thy charms.
Dost think thy sweeting feign would die
than leave the comfort of thine arms?
Forgive me if my brusque reply
some vision of thyself disarms.

I do not need thee; I am strong,
an oak with roots set firm and deep.
Have I not told thee right along
my counsel I would always keep?
Shouldst thou demur, thou dost me wrong;
but never mind, I shall not weep.

I shall not weep for thee, my dear;
I am not smitten by thy wit.
Though others eagerly give ear,
I find in me no benefit
from thy conceit; in fact, I fear
I harbor little taste for it.

But hold, perhaps I overstate;
I would not have thee think me cruel.
‘Tis not for me to castigate
nor offer thee for ridicule.
It is not mine to remonstrate
if thou shouldst choose to play the fool.

And so, a truce, my erstwhile friend;
in truth, I have no feud with thee.
There’s little in thee to offend;
I do not fear thy company.
I need thee not, but condescend,
in service to thy need of me.


Methinks this damsel doth protest too much!

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Friday, November 15, 2013

A Zeal for Giving

Jenny Matlock's Alphabet Thursday
Z = A Zeal for Giving

I'm sure most of you have read about, received, and participated in random acts of kindness. Recently, I ran across a video of someone happily picking up the tab for the person behind him at a drive-through restaurant. Especially heartwarming was the fact that his generosity sparked a chain of giving he hadn't anticipated. Those who were given a free lunch decided, quite spontaneously, to pass that blessing along. For a few minutes, all the receivers became givers, with every driver paying for the occupants of the car behind him. We often call this type of activity "paying it forward," but this was definitely "paying it backward!" ;) Either way, what made the situation stand out in my mind was this: the positive action of an individual motivated positive action by an entire group––namely, the long line of people who ended up taking part (aka the "snowball effect.")

This snowball effect really got me thinking. We've all heard stories about undesirable mob behavior, where one person begins to act out in violent or destructive fashion and pretty soon others jump on the bandwagon. Vandalism after a World Series victory might be one example of this, as would the Rodney King attack in Los Angeles a few years ago. There is plenty of evidence to show that bad behavior in one person sort of creates a "safe place" for bad behavior in another, and I have often seen that subject discussed on television and in the press.

Far less frequent is any discussion about the upside of group dynamics: "desirable" mob behavior. (Don't you love the concept of a benevolent mob?) It is heartening to note that our good actions can steer others in a positive direction too, even when it is not something they, as individuals, would normally do. For example, if I let an elderly or pregnant woman with a full shopping cart go ahead of me in line, is it not more likely that the person in front of me will do the same?...and maybe even the person in front of her? I like the idea that one person's kindness creates a breeding ground for group kindness. 

Going to the head of the line when you are tired and uncomfortable may seem like a small thing, but there are wider applications. What about the people on Flight 93 that rushed the cockpit and tried to overcome the terrorists? We don't know for sure who took the first step, perhaps Mark Bingham, but others in the group rose to the occasion. During the Holocaust, when the Krepec family in Poland risked their lives to hide 30 Jewish citizens in their home, the people of their town could have protected themselves and their loved ones by reporting them. Instead, they got on board, putting their own futures on the line by supporting the Krepecs with meals, relief, and most of all, silence. 

You've heard the saying, paraphrased from Mahatma Gandhi, to "Be the change you want to see in the world." More specifically, maybe we need to "Be the goodness we want to see in the world." One thing's for certain, our kind acts are more powerful than we know. Are we ready to lead the way?

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Monday, November 11, 2013


Danseuse ajustant sa brettelle, 1895-96, Edgar Degas

©2013 Susan Noyes Anderson

It's music I remember most of all.
Soaring strains of winged Tchaikovsky
brought to earth by steady beat
of wooden cane against a parquet floor.
The ballet mistress, mean with added weight,
despised her torpid flesh and tortured ours.
Through us she danced, each arabesque
a thrust against our firm yet fragile borders.
I foiled each foray, held her off with
grand battement, changement, changement, changement.
Her face was rouge, piqued by my piqué turns.
She chastised us for nibbling a cruller,
gorged herself on crepes and jam.


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