Interruptus

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?