Cheers to 2025

In hopes of peace we head into a new year.

Yearning for prosperity and a sense of God’s infinite blessings.

Brethren, the past has made us stronger, wiser, and eager for what awaits us in 2025.

The majestic sounds of those who will be with us in spirit, but no longer with us on earth will resonate through their offspring.

Friends, be joyful, do not let hate destroy God’s anointing on us all, for we all our blessed in so many ways.

The science is clear that our Lord is merciful and full of second chances.

What man can conquer with a clear conscience?

Friends, I say, be passionate in the process of forgiveness.

Be grateful in 2025 and do not covet those with plenty, but rejoice.

Indeed, I say, be blessed with plenty of love, joy, and peace in 2025.

Indeed, I say, rejoice, for we are champions of divine truth and royal descendants of a divine will, rich in the Lord’s favor.

We can hear the Angels speaking to us in our dreams, we can feel the presence of God’s omnipotent power over our lives.

Brethren, we’re blessed.

Lean on these truths and I promise you will find divine purpose in 2025.

 

The Rebel Saint Warlord Crispy & the kid who saved Christmas

“Those kids are spoiled Claus. There are no good kids anymore, they belong to me,” explained Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint.

“Say no this year Saint Nick, don’t you hear the reverend preaching about how Christmas is a pagan holiday. Me and my rebel saints will take back what belongs to us. Why waste your time searching for good vibes Saint Nick? The world is a dump and people are evil. There is no good, don’t you see Saint Nick? All they do is consume, drink and be merry. They steal and kill each other, while you sit lonely in a room at the North Pole serving their kid’s needs. It’s all a lie. Look at their parents, Saint Nick, do you think they care about all that you’ve done for their children over the years? Giving them happy memories. Join me this year Saint Nick. Let’s make war with the people, let’s destroy the human race. Don’t you see the hidden hatred inside of their hearts. If Christ were alive do you think they would care? Do you think they remember the sacrifice? It’s all a joke to them now. All they care about are themselves. Look at how they argue over who or what God looks like. Look at what they’ve become. Soulless flesh, feasting off of false hopes. Join me Saint Nick. All I need is for you to sign over the Christmas magic to me and my Rebel Saints, and we will make the world a much better place. We will bring the world to its knees. Basic math Saint Nick. Basic math, isn’t that what you want?” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint continued.

“Who are you?” St. Nick asked.

“I’m here to even the scales. The conjuring of hate has given me the power that I’ve waited for to steal Christmas and souls. I heard you arguing with your old aunt, you’re low on Christmas magic. Now give it all to me,” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint said.

“No, me and my elves will never surrender,” Saint Nick said.

“Goodness is dead, the world is dark and filled with death. Even religious leaders are fighting for your power over Christmas, now give it to me. Do you think your good children will save you when they’re all scattered and lost?” Warlord Crispy went on as venom spilled out of his mouth.

“Look at them, St. Nick, they know everything but the story of Christ and Christmas, now give me what belongs to me, your purpose is dead, just like the magic of Christmas. What color are you? What political affiliation are you? Ha, as a matter of fact, what religion are you? There is no goodness, Christmas is mine now Nick. Ha! They will call me St. Rebel. Yes, the new face of Christmas, now die Claus!” Warlord Crispy went on, growing stronger and stronger while holding St. Nick and the entire Christmas story in the palm of his hands. At that moment, all goodness seemed to be no more, and the story of Christmas slowly began to disappear. Screams could be heard as Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint with his green hair and magical marks set fire to the manger that once was the bed where Christ slept. When all looked like it was over, Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint began shooting at the reindeer, it almost seemed like all hell had broken loose. No one believed in the story anymore, and the world began to grow dark as Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint set the north pole on fire.

“What do we do Sir? We were not made for war,” one of the Elves asked.

St. Nick grabbed his Bible, and like the gold color of his skin and the wool of his hair, he began to preach to his elves, “All we’ve ever been is a story for little children of all races, creeds, and colors. All we’ve ever been is a beacon of hope for the greater good of the world. In our code of creation, Elves, that’s all we were created for, on earth. Now, if there is one who believes and prays, then there is hope. Until we feel this child’s force, then we have no purpose, and we will fade like the ashes that burn. Elves, all it takes is one child to believe,” St. Nick concluded.

Witnessing the torment and destruction of the world, Phillip, the orphan slave, fell to his knees begging for God’s strength. He watched as the evil Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint set fire to his orphanage while he was forced to watch them torch his entire village. Reaching out to his sister to save her, he remembered how she was raped and left for dead as he heard the voice of an angel teaching him a fundamental lesson about life. He also recalled his cousin Nathan begging for mercy while being stoned for stealing a bag of bread and there he stood in a field of torment as Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint killed everyone and everything he loved.

“No one can hear your prayers slave. All hope now belongs to me,” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint said.

“Why are you doing this, Sir?” Phillip asked trembling in fear.

“I am a force that the people asked for. I am a god that the people have given all of their power to. Now worship me child. Bow down to me and I will give you the world,” Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint continued.

“I know what good is, Sir. I loved my sister and brother, we didn’t get along at times, but I loved them. I don’t have anything, I never have, and I never will, Sir, but I know what good is. I’ve learned my lesson, but what you’re doing is evil,” Phillip said.

At this moment, the balance of time and nature began to unfold. The little child Phillip released a vibe that was thought to be forgotten in a world in trouble. Rising from the North, an army of Saints and Angels from the heavens came to Phillip’s aid.

St. Nick noticed his Christmas magic meter turning again.

“Hold on Elves, there is one child who still believes,” he said watching night and day return like the great light from the morning Sun. 

The Evil Warlord Crispy the Rebel Saint had been defeated, all by the power of one child who believes. Long live Christmas. Long live the story of Christ. Long live Phillip, the child who believed.

The End.

My Favorite Elementary Art Teacher

After walking into her classroom, I place a picture of my work on her desk, she tells me to put my signature on it, she then frames it with my label on the back of the frame, then kindly puts it on display.

Before class, she tells us our project for the day, she then gives us our paint brushes, paint, and canvases while we get to work on our art assignment.

Once we’re done, she shows us how to clean up after ourselves.

Around Christmas time, she has us paint an image of ourselves in a manger. 

The End.

My Favorite Athletes.

They learn from their losses.

They are a good example for the next generation.

They always practice good sportsmanship.

When they win, they’re back in the gym.

After a hard play, they get back on defense.

They try, try, and try again.

They know when to take a mental break.

They understand themselves and are always trying to make the sport and the world around them better.

They know that perfection is a goal that doesn’t exist, but worth a try.

They smile for the camera.

They make the game fun.

They understand that their money is their business, but the love for the game is everything.

They never give up while teaching all of us to do the same.

When their run is over, come Christmas time, they play the wisemen or women as a coach or spectator.

The End.

My favorite actress.

While filming her very first movie, she looked straight into the camera; Big mistake.

She was so nervous the night before her first role that her script became wrinkled because she studied over and over again in fear that she would forget her lines.

Stiff, and out of character, she smacked herself in the face and smudged her makeup just so she could get back into playing her role.

She tripped over a monitor while singing her first musical, but she managed to recover by hitting a high note while laying on her back. The audience went crazy.

When asked in her interview if she preferred method or natural acting her response was, “Am I acting now?”

Noticing that her cast mates were unhappy with their roles, she took them out to eat with the little money that she had and would stay up late to get them more comfortable with their parts. She also convinced the director to make some changes just so the project could get done without any issues.

In her first Christmas movie, she played the first woman savior of the world in a script written by her father. The critics hated it, but the audience loved it. Her role was the mother of Christ.

The End.

My favorite singer

Her first track was not mixed well at all.

Her first show was terrible, she failed to hit the high notes.

She had a thing for old long dresses.

At show time at the Apollo, she got booed off stage.

As she grew older, her voice got stronger.

When called to sing her own songs, she finally scored a hit.

Even when singing Christmas classics, the simple message is that she just loved to sing. 

The End.

Abraham’s Moon

 Hearing the cries for Holy war, Caesar summoned his priest.

“So what took place after the great flood? What happened to cause all of this madness and bloodshed?”  Caesar asked his priest.

“Noah’s offspring grew like large trees, but their relationships to their kin were like doves and ravens. Some, like oil and water. Shem, Ham, & Japheth’s tribes all grew to create separate nations fighting for the lord’s blessings. Like the moon in the night sky, just like Abraham, they search for their father’s star. As they grow old they carry canes like Moses seeing visions from God like the prophets that they follow. We are all a part of Abraham. God’s chosen species. He has blessed us. Holy he is, Sir.” Darius explained.

“So what will become of Christmas?” Caesar replied.

“Some tribes will celebrate it and some tribes won’t. Sir.” Darius said, handing Caesar his robe.

“I have a suggestion. If we all our the offspring of Noah, then let’s all celebrate the story of Christ as a family together. Are we all not family searching for God’s blessings?” Caesar said.

“Sir, many do not take the time to know who we all are. Some of us do not read. Some of us our bitter and many of us have forgotten, including you. The other tribes are calling for war. What do you want our Armies to do, Sir?” Darius asked, eager for a response.

“Caesar took a hard look at the large moon hovering above his castle. If we are all the offspring of Abraham and Christ is our brother, then we will not fight, we will celebrate his legacy. What was his story?” Caesar continued on taking a seat on his bed waiting for Darius to reply.

“He was born of a virgin who said she was visited by angels that told her that her child would save the world from their sins. Emanuel, God in the flesh. Merciful enough to walk with his creation. Sir.”

“Darius, if that same moon shined for Abraham, then I must say that it shines for all of us. Was this child religious?” Caesar asked.

“Yes, he prayed, he fasted, and he even was tempted,” Darius said.

“What day was he born?” Caesar asked.

“We don’t really know. Sir.” Darius replied.

“So we remember a child who made the world better and suffered so that we shall live and we gave him a holiday. Hm…If we are all his children and God came down to die for us, then we will celebrate and give him the greatest gift of all. We will give him peace. Tell the Army to stand down. God is in all of us. Today, instead of dying, we will live for him.”

Merry Christmas 

Abraham’s Moon

Moon Kids

In this piece, a man finds life in children.

He realizes that the greatest gift that he has to offer to them around the holidays is to show them a path away from war. A life that he sees on a screen broadcasting people suffering that he cannot save. Or can he?

Sitting on a roof at night to marvel at the moon he listens to them play from afar,

He chuckles, and calls them, Moon Kids,

Here are his thoughts:

In them, I see a part of me.

A man afraid to fail as a child.

A man always trying to be perfect as a student.

A man who never realized his full potential at their age.

A man who never felt good enough in the arena of life as they often do.

A man in constant wonder about the moon.

A man sitting in a room with a Santa hat on searching for his sainthood.

I am a human being who too sins only to find myself too lost in a world of lies and unfortunate probabilities.

My conscience draws me to the story about a child born in a manger. 

Fascinated in an awe of perception, I can believe and read this amazing story from so many angles.

Staring at the moon, realizing that my dream is far beyond the universal laws, yet, the message is always in front of me.

Even when I’m wrong, I must try to do right.

Even when I’m bad, I must try to do good.

For the reasons why we’re all dealt an uneven hand, we do not know, but the odds come with risk of our will to believe in miracles.

Who has the faith to take this risk?

Angels hovering around us speaking to our inner soul like planets orbiting in outer space.

Like the moon around earth, I guess we do have a purpose.

Yet, my answers to every question are far beyond space. There truly is no cure for the common will to seek love.

A physicist might say that a man’s passion has something to do with astrology or the stars.

Drowning in a sea of sorrow from the woes in life, filled with imperfections, the moon kids make me feel alive.

In them, I see a part of me. They’re human.

In them, I see my failures.

In them, I see my successes.

In them, I see my smile.

Flying high in the sky in a red and white hat with a red nose reindeer, I traveled all the way to the moon just to give the moon kids a home.

I worked to the bone, just so the moon kids would not be out on the street.

Even if it were never enough, I gave these kids everything just so they could grow up believing in a better world with a moon not just filled with glowing space dust, but a moon bursting with dreams.

On Christmas Day, spilling out toys from my red bag, I kindly told them the story of Christ.

Some asked for books, some asked for toys, and some just needed love.

In the distance, I saw some of them suffering from the wrath of war, so with the little I had left, in these brief moments, knowing too that I must leave this earth one day, I gave them peace.

In hopes that they would never forget what it feels like.

One of them smiled back at me and that was good enough.

The ones on earth who didn’t make it to the moon with me and had to suffer in the wrath of war, I soon found out that they were the angels on the other side leading me to spread the message about peace on Earth.

That’s all they really ever wanted, as a matter of fact, that’s all they really ever needed.

Moon Kids