Listening to every heart
The Christmas of In-between
Poetry in Prose
Not yet a teen, but more than a child, this little woman not yet gone wild. Dreams were a mystery, a magic and charm…she held them closely, they kept her from harm. The year, nineteen hundred and sixty-two, she, the older sister to two. "Keep the secret", mother asked in delicate tone, "never let on," and in this, she was alone. To know for once, an adult, was she, and kept the secret of Santa, alone, the eldest of three.
And Christmas was coming, the days wrapped in glee…Mom handed out boxes to be wrapped by all three! "Now this is yours, wrap it up fine, no shaking or looking, or you'll lose it in time!" Oh the giggling and slight jiggling, the quest to wrap quiet, but the wonder and looks, oh my goodness, a riot!
And soon Christmas Eve, the night of the book, oldest sis stood back, and took in the looks of her sister and brother, all wrapped up in cheer, and she, the eldest, knew the real story this year.
A burden it was not to let them in to the secret she knew the line was quite thin of being an adult and being a child; to sit quietly, or in joy go wild! Oh she bounced, oh the joy, to share this with the girl and boy! But no, she had to remain so quiet, and inside her, bounced this joyous riot! It's "Mom and Dad" who should claim the respect! of all the Christmas joyous havoc! But mother had said "please remember, dear, it's Santa who owns this time of year!" And then in most quiet voice, Mom said "it's your choice" and daughter thought, being most elder now, that in her hands, she would keep this vow.
But this time, this year, something different reigned…Mom and Dad spoke of God's domain, and of His Son, and of His Plan, and in all things of God's command.
The eldest listened; most entranced was she, to hear the thoughts that enraptured all three. And somehow that night, she encompassed it all, and in light of wisdom, she began to stand tall.
Now, the tree was lit, the pine smell was pungent, and gone to bed, all three children went. But the eldest, she could not sleep, and she waited, until the night sounds were deep. Quietly she crept out of her bed, and toward the light, her feet were led. She peeked in, and the sight she found, and quietly gasped, O the sound!
The tree was lit most brilliantly; the packages they gleamed! And she looked on most silently, for a spiritual time it seemed. The room was not as was when she departed, now the lodging sparkled and magic imparted. It was as if there, Santa had been, and God had come too, his Son he did send. For a bible lay atop her small pile of treasures, unwrapped but golden, in splendid measure. And she knew then she should not have glanced, and returned to her room, her thoughts entranced.
To take the mix of Santa and God, to blend the causes bright, came to her in most magical clause, that one long ago night. To gift and give, as God had done, to share the joys with His Son, to share these gifts Oh! every day, to walk in shine as He lights the way…
This then is Christmas most resplendent, but as she learned that night, it is in how you spend it.
This is in thanks
to my Mom and Dad…
for giving me dreams
in all of the reality.
If I whisper, will you listen?...
I would rather be silent and write, then speak loudly and be bound.