However you may wish to say it:
Gajan Kristnaskon
Joyeux Noel
Froehliche Weihnachten
Mele Kalikimaka
Buone Feste Natalizie
God Jul
Feliz Natal
Feliz Navidad
However you may wish to say it:
Gajan Kristnaskon
Joyeux Noel
Froehliche Weihnachten
Mele Kalikimaka
Buone Feste Natalizie
God Jul
Feliz Natal
Feliz Navidad
THE POSSIBILITY TREE
By: Mary L. Barnard
There is a tree somewhere
Hung with all the ornaments
That pre- or post- trimming
Were broken
Crushed underfoot.
Sprung loose from the wire
Batted around by the cat
Lying in pieces in the box.
We gave up on these ornaments
Scooped them up
Tossed them
Vacuumed well
Maybe shed a private tear
Fussed at a careless child
Shopped E-Bay for replacements.
I believe that someone
Call him Santa’s Super-Glue-Man
Busily repairs all the broken ornaments
With the brightest metallic glue
Silver, gold, copper
Just imagine this tree
Lights reflected in jagged glue lines
Some say the repairs
More beautiful than
The ornament all by itself.
I have for you the top entries
In a contest to name this tree;
Tree of Lost Causes
The Reunion Tree
Tree of Many Crackpots
The Tree that Zigged and Zagged.
You, my dearest friends
Get to choose a name
Or make one up
That might create
A private holiday space
Where all our repairs
Don’t seem quite so impossible.
Happy Holidays
Wherever you are
However you celebrate.
MARY’S SECRET
mother of wisdom
more strong than weak, more bold than meek,
she knew she was worthy
MARY PONDERED
Voices of custom and convenience
had no hold over her.
She listened to angels.
GOLD, FRANKINCENSE AND HER
three Wise Women arrive
see the Light of who you are
bear gifts for your journey
By: Al Manning
An old, old story that has been oft retold.
Of a special time, of a night still and cold.
A new-born infant, and where does he lay
But out in a stable, in a manger of hay.
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Calm and serene the dear Mother lay there
Hearing the sounds in the cold, night air.
Of shepherds and wise men coming to see
This special new baby, this Savior to be.
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Each year at this time, we retell this story
How Angels were singing, in splendor and glory.
And like them our loud hosannas we raise
And fill our churches with music and praise.
But then immediately head back to the store
To buy and buy, to get more and more.
Until sometimes we really don’t know
Just how much we have, for it's all just for show.
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Perhaps it's just me, but I don't understand
The hustle and bustle that's all through our land.
Forget the baby, for that's long gone by
The important thing now is how much can we buy.
An old, old story that has been oft retold.
Of a special time, of a night still and cold.
But don't ask of us where does he lay
For we no longer know. We have lost the way.