An Ode to Christmas Past

Christmas day dawned bright and clear 

and so did children’s eyes. For days and weeks they’d prepped for this ~ A Santa Claus surprise! Decorate, bake, and gaily wrap gifts for beneath the Christmas tree ~ a tree all dressed in twinkling lights, silvery tinsel and an angel placed atop.

Creeping down the stairs 
in an early Christmas morn, 
to the glow of Christmas lights 
and silent night time snow 
To know Santa always visited, 
cookie crumbs remain, glass of milk was dry. Stockings filled, gifts laid out brought many delighted cries.

Then sadness struck a heavy blow ~ epilepsy shattered the scene. 
A brother dear, without warning 
fell violently from his seat.
Family pieces, like a Christmas puzzle, were strewn about the house, but like a puzzle never all picked up.

The next year came, then the next 
Christmas picture all askew. 
But not unseen was that terrible day 
when Christmas glow turned blue.

We grew, some flew taking Christmas traditions 

along to share with children of young families until…...

while baking and decorating at Christmas time
a knock came on the door. 
A greater tragedy struck!
Hope vanished with the news
the day when mother died. 
Shock felt that day I can’t unfeel. 
Raw edges ignored, were slowly scrubbed
then gently, softly sanded through time

This long time ago, each Christmas time,
Now mended, patched and stitched
with decoration and baking, gifts and cards
to honour those that are lost. 
These are the cracks in the picture 
mended with threads of silver and gold 
from the memories of early days ~
of creeping down morning stairs 
in light of early dawn. 
Silence of gently fallen snow, 
warmth of books and a Christmas puzzle
brings close a fading gentle time ~

Cracks from the great abyss of tragedies long ago 
tore families young, now growing old, have 
filled with golden warmth of hope 
in sore and tender hearts.

Christmas comes but once a year
or so the story’s told.
My story is with me all the year
along with Christmas gold.

“Faith is the seamstress

Who mends our torn belief

Who sews the hem of childhood trust

And clips the threads of grief.”

~ Joan Walsh Anglund

Author's note: Edited January 29, 2024

Hope: A Small Risk

soothing, cool and wet encloses my whole body 
pulling my hair gently back 
combing it with watery fingers away from my face, drifting like sea weed from my scalp, bouyant as long as I hold my breath
~ an edge of panic calls ‘oxygen!’ 
to creep past the desire to go deeper, to swim 

with fish and waving plantlife
pushing to the surface 
breaking into the real world
children playing and splashing
bright light over the water’s surface
underwater is another world 
outside of the square slick world of tiles.
deep breath of inside air fills my lungs
once more diving into the watery other world 
hoping to return from whence I came
avoiding the noisy world above the water line. 
underwater is both freeing and dangerous.  
a small risk for me 
compared to high divers and marathon swimmers
a risk I am willing to take in the safety of a swimming pool.

“The reward is in the risk.”

~ Rachel Cohn, Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares

Storm Clouds

Storm Clouds

There seemed little hope for the small town. Red dust blew down streets, gathered in corners and  piled against stoic paint shredded buildings. Slate grey clouds gathered and billowed in the blue, blue sky. Clouds ominous and slashed by spikes of lightning. The town sat in the middle of the prairie, stolid and sure. Storms of rain or wind hadn’t moved anything more than a few shingles or fence boards. There were lights on in homes surrounding Main Street, residents wisely remained in doors as the storm threatened. It was not the first storm to bear down on their small town. It would not be the last. Hope resided behind those closed doors. Families hunkered down, gathering their reserves and prepared for the storm that was to come.

“There is always a storm. There is always rain. Some experience it. 

Some live through it. And others are made from it.”

~ Shannon L. Alder

A Little Word

Hope

A small word

Such a radiant quality

Easily lost inside too much chatter

Renewed in silence, calm and on the next wave.

“You never really know what’s coming. A small wave, or 

maybe a big one. All you can really do is hope that when it comes, 

you can surf over it, instead of drown in it’s montrosity.”

~ Alysha Speer, author

Momentary Meaning

Enthusiastic about each moment
Hopeful for brilliant ideas
Ideas that pop and bubble
Creating the change needed in this world
Accepting that change comes in the moment
Yet everyone’s moments come together 
In the enthusiasm of protest and challenge.

“It is not a case of finding the meaning for the moments, 

but giving the moments meaning.”

~ Steven Redhead, Life is Simply a Game

Willing To Choose

   Willing to Choose

‘Perfectly willing! Mom! I am willing to clean up my room, but I’m not perfect! And besides it’s snowing so I’m just going to read.’ Sarah was so angry with her mom when she bugged her to clean up her room. She’d do it when she was ready and she just wasn’t finished reading her book yet. And besides, her room really didn’t need cleaning up. Sarah knew where everything was. It wasn’t like she was expecting company.

‘Oh, Sarah. I don’t expect you to be perfect. I would like you to get some perfection behind that willingness that you talk about. Why can’t you see the clutter in your room and clean…it…up.’

This was a normal conversation between Sarah and her mom. Not every day. Maybe about once a week when Sarah’s mom tried to run the vacuum in her daughter’s room. She really didn’t expect any perfection from her daughter. That word just slipped out in the midst of their last argument. She was starting to sound like her own mother - always wanting her to be perfect about her grades, her clothes...it had felt like everything. Sarah’s mom shook her head. ‘Being a daughter is pretty interesting. Living up to your mom’s expectations. And being a mom to that daughter also interesting.’ She smiled. Sarah’s mom hoped she could keep up to the challenge of both being a daughter and a mom.

‘Sarah.’ Her mom called up the stairs as she put on her warm coat and new holiday scarf.

‘Now what did I do?’

‘Nothing. I’m going out to supper - you coming? I’ve finished putting up the Christmas tree and decided it’s time that you and I had supper together at that new restaurant downtown. Your dad’s not going to be in until late.’

Sarah came thundering down the stairs, her ponytail flipping wildly. ‘Yay! Now that I’m perfectly willing to do!’

“And will you succeed? Yes indeed, yes indeed! 

Ninety-eight and three-quarters percent guaranteed!”

~ Dr. Seuss

Keeping Hope Alive

Open to new directions ~

Doors and windows

letting hope shine through 

for old ideas with a new twist

and new ideas from a new generation.

“Study the past if you would define the future.”

~ Confucius