As I sat drinking my tea, from a cup I gave my Mom before she died, I thought about my twist on “Twas The Night Before Christmas” written what now seems like many years ago when my grandchildren were much younger; I wanted to share this retelling with you. May the end of this calendar year bring you peace, blessings and joy.
‘Twas the day after Christmas, when all through the place,
not a chorus of voices; a quieter space.
The presents were stacked, although all now unwrapped,
and Vero, the puppy, was taking a nap.
The children were playing with new games and toys,
remembering gladly the fun and the noise.
We sat down by the fire and talked about years
that quickly flew by amid laughter and cheer.
Then downstairs we suddenly heard a loud clatter;
we sprang from our chairs to see what was the matter.
Away down the steps we flew in a hurry
but, alas there was no reason to worry.
There, sitting down, laughing were two little ones—
playing and enjoying some more Christmas fun.
When what to my wondering eyes did I see;
the nativity near the grand Christmas tree.
It was old and quite loved, with its paint chipped a bit;
the timing was perfect, for a moment to sit,
and the old and the treasured memories they came,
so I reached out and held them and called them by name:
“now laughter, now patience, now love, care and grace,
oh kindness and comfort and joy fill our space;
from youngest to oldest, from shortest to tall,11
may God bring good health, joy and peace to you all.”
As I walk through this life, living day after day,
may I always take note of the role that I play.
So, to God I then sent a short, fervent prayer
that through each precious day I will be aware,
that to share with my loved ones, beautiful days
is a present that I must cherish always.
And, as I thought of the life I’ve been granted,
I knew that the seeds of love had been planted,
as a child of God and a child of man—
as a spirit residing, as a part of a plan.
I went back to my youth and remembered the days
after Christmas, and how I would just sit and play
with toys given freely—even when times were tough—
and I cherished the memory of being so loved.
So, I said, to my grandchildren “I love you dears”,
and I gave them a hug through my now flowing tears.
Then, I talked to my daughters, and told them again
how very much I love them and how much it meant
that the gifts that they’d given were thoughtful and kind;
that they took love and insight and caring and time.
And I remembered all of the years that I’ve had
and the gifts I’ve been given when happy and sad.
Some know nothing of peace or of a holiday;
some have never had anyone help them to pray.
There are those who are starving or living in pain.
There are many for whom hope no longer remains.
I recall Christmas Eve and how blessed was that night,
when we sang out at church amid calm candlelight.
When I look at my life, and all those who I love,
I’m aware of God’s gift of His Son—from above.
Where Christmas lives always, should be in my heart
and it’s there that I strive with each day to start,
for I know that our God is always in sight,
Merry Christmas to all, and to all peace and light.
What a beautiful poem, I don’t remember reading it before. It’s lovely.
Thank you Betsy!