‘Twas the Day After Christmas

Looking back and looking forward

The families have gone.
The gifts put away.
One last look at the cards friends have sent.
I love the day after
to pause and reflect.
And as carols still play, I’m content.

It’s a day to be quiet
and sit by the fire
while sifting through memories we’ve made.
I’m grateful for photographs
faded and torn
that capture the past on parade.

It’s a day to be grateful
that Christmas extends
through the choices we make through the year.
The gift of our presence
with family and friends
is a treasure to those we hold dear.

A Near Silent Night

The bicentennial of the world’s most beloved carol

In 1818 Joseph Mohr
a rural parish priest
wrote lyrics for his church on Christmas Eve.
His simple words recalled a night
when Jesus Christ was born,
But sadly Pastor Mohr had cause to grieve.

The organ in his church broke down.
His words would have no tune.
This holy night would lack a joyful sound.
But then Franz Gruber had a thought
that brought Mohr’s words to life.
A Christmas Eve solution had been found.

Two hundred years ago this day
Mohr’s organist came through
by strumming chords upon his old guitar.
That’s how this carol (we love more
than others) came to be.
And Silent Night is still the best by far.

A Longest Night Lament

Prayer for a Blue Christmas

I hear Bing’s dreams of Christmas White.
But on this dreaded longest night,
my world lacks joy. At best, it’s bleak.
This Christmas I am blue.

The colors of this holiday
aren’t bright and bold. They’re brownish gray.
Depression robs my anguished soul
of sights most people see.

And no one seems to understand.
Emotionless, I’m feeling damned
to spend this Christmas feeling lost
but hoping to be found.

O God, although this night is long
remind me of that ancient song
in which You’re called Emmanuel.
Please come and ransom me.

  • This poem is dedicated to those who are struggling with clinical depression as they attempt to endure this holiday season.

I Herd the Shoppers

New lyrics to a familiar Christmas carol tune

I herd the shoppers with this rhyme
in hopes they still may find the time
to focus on a precious gift
not found in stores but Heaven sent.

I herd the shoppers at the mall
corralling them so they’ll recall
the meaning of this holy time
is more than standing in a line.

I herd the shoppers one by one
who run t’ward bargains almost gone.
My aim is to prevent regret
that’s found by adding to one’s debt.

I herd the shoppers on their way
t’ward undermining Christmas Day.
Like cattlemen out on the range
my efforts may seem harsh and strange.

I herd the shoppers with the goal
of helping lift the weary soul
who spends and spends without regard
for shopping with a credit card.

tune: I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day

Remembering a Remarkable Bush

A Tribute to President George H. W. Bush

Long ago in a windswept desert,
a man named Moses encountered a bush.
It was far from an ordinary one.
It was aflame with meaning.
What Moses saw and heard
conveyed a Divine Presence.
Because he was on sacred soil,
he took off his shoes.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience!
But he was not the only one to witness the remarkable.

We, too, have encountered an extraordinary Bush.
His name was George.
And like that bush of old,
he was ablaze with life.
This son of a Senator
grew up to be more than a wealthy Texas oilman.
Much more.

He was a twenty-year old war hero.
A congressman.
An ambassador.
CIA Director.
Vice-President.
And our 41st President.

He was a source of both warmth and light.
Wherever he stood was holy ground.
To be in his presence was a source of amazement.
In a political wasteland,
George H. W. Bush was a unique shrub of beauty.
In the barren desert of disunity,
he was a welcomed oasis of cooperation.
His kind and gentle demeanor
was a refreshing breath of fresh air
in an environment polluted
by mean-spirited backbiting political partisan rancor.

Our former Chief Executive modeled humility, decorum and dignity.
He listened to the men and women around him
while clearly speaking his mind.
His dream for our country was a vision of a Promised Land.
Like Moses, he called his people to picture a milk-and-honey-like future.
He broke down walls with former adversaries
as he heeded the call of a first century rabbi
to love our enemies.
He reached across the aisle
to join hands with others
whose goal in life was more than
simply being re-elected.

As we read George’s lips,
we could hear George’s heart.
Last Friday George Herbert Walker Bush
heard a Robin sing
(and a companion of 73 years rejoice)
as the gates of Heaven opened
to welcome this remarkable patriot
to his eternal home.

Peace to his memory!