Twas the week before Christmas, and all through the place, we all rushed around, at a furious pace, looking for presents for those that we loved.
We jammed all the stores, while we pushed and we shoved, from store to store, as we kept making tracks, as we shopped and we shopped, till our credit card maxed.
What to get Joe and what to get Mom?
What don’t they have now, but would like to have some?
Decisions, decisions, are so hard to make, afraid what we buy will turn out a mistake.
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Homeward we dashed, in a mighty big rush, as preparing the house now became such a fuss. Cleaning and polishing, lest those who might come will notice traces of dust or of scum.
After shopping in stores, with lineups and shoven’, the turkey was dressed and put in the oven.
Kids were undressed and then sent to bed but lay there awake, as things raced through their head.
Visions of gifts they had asked for, for years, ran through their heads, and between both their ears.
They giggled and whispered, not getting to sleep. They snuck down to see, and without any peep the tree and the presents, all decked out awaiting the spirit of Christmas, of giving and getting.
When all around there arose such a great noise. It drowned out the sounds of the TVs and Gameboys.
And a voice cried out loud, “Hey, stop all this strife, all this prancing and dancing around with your life!
“What’s Christmas about”, the voice did call out in a painful, and pleading kind of a shout.
“It’s time for love, for love to be shown, so all the world will have come to known, that our creator is love, and came to be with us, to share in our pain, and help us to gain, a relationship special for all those on earth, where all can discover they have special worth toward each other and with the creative power that sustains and guides us every hour.”
Writing this poem wasn’t that easy since most of my mind went all freezy. I take off my hat to Clement Clarke Moore.
Twas The Night Before Christmas, he wrote out that night to cause usto look, stop, and see the True Light, to stop all our rushing, and pushing and crushing and look for the light, that came on that night, the one that God came as the real truth of Christmas.
Christmas blessings to you and to those that you love.
Peter Griffiths is a mental health counsellor based in Prince Albert, Sask. His columns are intended as general advice only. His website is www3.sk.sympatico.ca/petecope.
