It's official!

... Yes, our magazine continues to develop.  Regular subscribers will find some new and interesting items in the March issue.  We're excited about that issue for several reasons ... one of which is that it will mark the completion of our first year of publishing The Voice of Valor! 

Actually, have quite a few ideas for upcoming issues, thanks to the number of creative young people getting involved.  We can't tell you all of them just yet ... but we will, little by little!

As always, we'd love to hear your feedback.  If there is something you particularly like about a previous issue or the magazine in general, or if you have an idea or thought to suggest for a future issue, let us know!  You can contact us via email at VoiceOfValor2012@gmail.com  Or, feel free to post a question here on the blog (they can be anonymous!)

Please continue to share our magazine and blog with family and friends.  It is our goal for as many people as possible to hear The Voice!

Blessed Epiphany!

This beautiful feast, "Little Christmas" as it is sometimes called, has inspired many an artist and poet.  Here is the poem composed for the feast by H. W. Longfellow:

The Three Kings (Longfellow)

Three Kings came riding from far away,
Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;
Three Wise Men out of the East were they,
And they travelled by night and they slept by day,
For their guide was a beautiful, wonderful star.

The star was so beautiful, large and clear,
That all the other stars of the sky
Became a white mist in the atmosphere,
And by this they knew that the coming was near
Of the Prince foretold in the prophecy.

Three caskets they bore on their saddle-bows,
Three caskets of gold with golden keys;
Their robes were of crimson silk with rows
Of bells and pomegranates and furbelows,
Their turbans like blossoming almond-trees.

And so the Three Kings rode into the West,
Through the dusk of the night, over hill and dell,
And sometimes they nodded with beard on breast,
And sometimes talked, as they paused to rest,
With the people they met at some wayside well.

"Of the child that is born," said Baltasar,
"Good people, I pray you, tell us the news;
For we in the East have seen his star,
And have ridden fast, and have ridden far,
To find and worship the King of the Jews."

And the people answered, "You ask in vain;
We know of no King but Herod the Great!"
They thought the Wise Men were men insane,
As they spurred their horses across the plain,
Like riders in haste, who cannot wait.

And when they came to Jerusalem,
Herod the Great, who had heard this thing,
Sent for the Wise Men and questioned them;
And said, "Go down unto Bethlehem,
And bring me tidings of this new king."

  So they rode away; and the star stood still,
The only one in the grey of morn;
Yes, it stopped --it stood still of its own free will,
Right over Bethlehem on the hill,
The city of David, where Christ was born.

And the Three Kings rode through the gate and the guard,
Through the silent street, till their horses turned
And neighed as they entered the great inn-yard;
But the windows were closed, and the doors were barred,
And only a light in the stable burned.

And cradled there in the scented hay,
In the air made sweet by the breath of kine,
The little child in the manger lay,
The child, that would be king one day
Of a kingdom not human, but divine.

His mother Mary of Nazareth
Sat watching beside his place of rest,
Watching the even flow of his breath,
For the joy of life and the terror of death
Were mingled together in her breast.

They laid their offerings at his feet:
The gold was their tribute to a King,
The frankincense, with its odor sweet,
Was for the Priest, the Paraclete,
The myrrh for the body's burying.

And the mother wondered and bowed her head,
And sat as still as a statue of stone,
Her heart was troubled yet comforted,
Remembering what the Angel had said
Of an endless reign and of David's throne.

Then the Kings rode out of the city gate,
With a clatter of hoofs in proud array;
But they went not back to Herod the Great,
For they knew his malice and feared his hate,
And returned to their homes by another way.

Happy New Year!

"The object of a New Year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul and a new nose; new feet, a new backbone, new ears, and new eyes. Unless a particular man made New Year resolutions, he would make no resolutions. Unless a man starts afresh about things, he will certainly do nothing effective... Unless a man be born again, he shall by no means enter into the Kingdom of Heaven."
~ G. K. Chesterton 

"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man."
~ Benjamin Franklin

Merry Christmas!

The House of Christmas 

by G.K. Chesterton 

There fared a Mother driven forth 

Out of an inn to roam; 

In the place where she was homeless 

All men are at home. 

The crazy stable close at hand, 

With shaking timber and shifting sand, 

Grew a stronger thing to abide and stand 

Than the square stones of Rome. 

For men are homesick in their homes,

 And strangers under the sun, 

And they lay their heads in a foreign land 

Whenever the day is done. 

 Here we have battle and blazing eyes, 

And chance and honour and high surprise, 

But our homes are under miraculous skies 

Where the yule tale was begun. 

A Child in a foul stable, 

Where the beasts feed and foam; 

Only where He was homeless 

Are you and I at home; 

We have hands that fashion and heads that know,

 But our hearts we lost---how long ago!

 In a place no chart nor ship can show 

Under the sky's dome. 

 This world is wild as an old wife's tale, 

And strange the plain things are,

The earth is enough and the air is enough 

For our wonder and our war; 

But our rest is as far as the fire-drake swings 

And our peace is put in impossible things 

Where clashed and thundered unthinkable wings 

Round an incredible star. 

To an open house in the evening

 Home shall all men come, 

To an older place than Eden 

And a taller town than Rome. 

To the end of the way of the wandering star, 

To the things that cannot be and that are, 

To the place where God was homeless 

And all men are at home.

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 Blessed Advent!