We never know, can never fathom fully, the lasting power of our actions, the staying power of our words - even one little sentence, one little phrase; one little word.
The Christ has died, reversed the flow
Of history, time and weal and woe;
The crimson tide that spreads its store
Has brought its cleansing to our shore.
Sometimes, somehow, despite the business of the Season, there can be a strange calm that settles upon us, even upon us last-minute, late-evening shoppers.
