Picture of Caedmon's Cross - taken at Whitby, England
I've heard it said that whatever you spend New Year's Day doing, you're likely to continue doing all through the coming year. Since I spent the day visiting with several friends, I hope it means that my year will be filled with lots of camaraderie and good conversation! I also managed to eat an inordinate amount of pie... so I'll have to take care that future pie encounters don't cause me to lose all self-control!
Caedmon was the first Christian poet to write in English (although it was Old English, so difficult to read). He lived during the last part of the 7th century in Whitby, England. Caedmon loved to hear stories told, but he was terrified of being in the spotlight himself - until a miracle occurred, and he began to write beautiful poetry in praise of God. Someday I'll write his complete story...
I've always felt an affinity with him, because I'm not fond of getting in front of people and talking, either...
Like Caedmon, I stand back
and let the light fall
on others – myself,
I’d rather retreat into the shadows
to rest with mute beasts.
No glory,
but no expectations, either.
Will an angel come down
and tell me my place?
What shall I say
if he tells me I must speak?
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