A poem for the first Sunday of Advent
Ladies and
gentlemen, welcome to the most wonderful time of the year,
Prepare to be
filled with Christmas cheer,
Raise your
glass of Eggnog high as Old St. Nick flies through the sky.
And don’t delay
your festive shopping; the malls around the town are hopping;
With stressed
out folks in need of rest, all searching for the gift that’s best;
While pasting
on a laboured smile and humming songs of infants mild.
But there’s no
time to contemplate – because if you do you might be late
For practicing
the Christmas play, with all the kids at church today.
For little
Sally needs her wings and halo if she’s going to sing,
And little
Johnny (in need of sleep) refuses to portray a sheep –
He throws a
tantrum in the car as he and sister start to spar,
You turn around
and raise your voice and warn the kids they have a choice,
That they can
whine, and pout and bray, but there won’t be gifts on Christmas day
They’ll end up
on the naughty list – and as you start to shake your fist,
You hear a horn
and then a squeal as you turn around and grab the wheel –
A narrow miss,
too close a call – those winter tires you must install –
As traffic
slows down to a crawl
And little sally starts to bawl,
You wonder is it worth
it all?
For every year
it gets more tense – the Christmas season makes no sense!
You’re tired and
stressed and burning out – this cannot be what it’s about,
Not presents,
shopping, cards or cheer, not carols, cookies or reindeer,
And as you pull
into the church, the Holy Spirit says to search –
To open up the
Word of God and know the path that Jesus trod,
To hear his
claims for why he came – for what those Angels did proclaim,
The miracle of
God made flesh – the Father sends his own, his best.
To understand
the real reason for what we call the Christmas season –
But just as you
begin to ponder a voice is heard from over yonder,
Johnny’s late,
his scene is on – they need the sheep upon the lawn,
And sally’s
wings won’t fix themselves – everybody needs your help
And just like
that the moment’s past – a Christmas peace that doesn’t last
A busyness that’s
unsurpassed
A pile of
presents now amassed
A boy who
thinks he’s been miscast
A conscience
that has been harassed
How does this
honour the first and the last?





