T'was the night before Christmas
When there rose such a fuss. With all these packages to wrap, It was just 'way too much'. Family was coming, Food was a must, And, with so many people, It was either be ready or bust. "Get up from the TV, Get off your fat butt! If you don't get movin', You'll sleep with the mutt!" "Kids, get back to bed!" "Pitch the dog outdoors! Get goin', buddy, And sweep up the floor!" T'was an annual event And everyone knew Voices would rise As the tension grew. Mom wasn't happy And Dad was mad. And with all the noise, It made the little ones sad. Nope, Christmas wasn't merry. It wasn't CHRISTmas at all, In spite of painted faces Once guests entered the hall. What was the point In all the pretense? Could Santa and reindeer Come to their defense? Could packages and ribbons Make a home of love? Would settling for presents Still be enough? But, how could it be Christmas Without the fuss; Without all the presents, Wrappings, and such? Could Christmas come Without exhaustion, just bliss? And should we appreciate Whose birthday it is? And, if at our front door, Would we let Him in? And would He know The party's for Him? I must admit I had been Sort of selfish, myself; In attempt to mend My own inner self ... Creating Christmases To fulfill all my dreams, Only for others to live; Or so it does seem ... Forgetting whose birthday It really was And even the joy Of His tender touch. And so ... T'was the night before Christmas When I changed all my plans, To let the Christ-Child in And place my heart in His hands. Author: Joyce C. Lock; 2008 |
