A Christmas Poem

Several years ago as the editor of a local newspaper I wrote a weekly column. Column-writing can be fun--you can write about things only you care about and you feel lucky if anyone else cares enough to read--but it can also be taxing. Some weeks the ideas won't come and you just spit something onto the page.

As the Christmas season approached I was at a loss for a subject matter and on the fly I crafted a poem.

A close friend of mine who read my column faithfully told me that she loved it, and when I visited her home several months later, I noticed she had clipped it and hung it on her refrigerator. By then the newsprint was yellowed with the grease of a kitchen well-used.

The next summer my friend died of cancer, and the following Christmas I ran the poem again. But this time my publication of the poem was purposeful. I introduced the poem with a tribute to my friend.

That was three years ago. This season I thought you all would enjoy reading this verse that was so special to my friend. Each time I read it I imagine her in heaven worshiping the Savior she served so faithfully on earth.

TM

I love the holidays. I hate the holidays

I love the holidays. I hate the holidays.
I love the aroma of cinnamon candles burning. I hate that Christmas decorations go up before Thanksgiving.
I love the chocolate, rich taste of home-baked fudge. I hate the extra 10 pounds.
I love decorating Christmas cookies with the kids. I hate cleaning up the mess.
I love hanging ornaments on the tree. I hate packing them away again after the New Year.
I love the tinkle of bells outside each store as the Salvation Army faithfully collects for the needy. I hate the ring of the cash register, signaling a depletion of my checking account.
I love the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers. I hate the hustle and bustle of Christmas shoppers.
I love the joyful sound of Christmas Carols on the radio and in stores. I hate the annoying commercials selling fake holiday cheer.
I love the vibrations in my chest as the organ plays “Joy to the World” and “Hark the Herald Angels Sing.”
I love to hear the children, dressed as Mary and Joseph, tell the Christmas story.
I love that God sent His Son to earth for us. I hate that His own rejected him and that many reject Him today.
I hate that He was nailed to a cross.
I hate that He died in agony.
I hate that He suffered for me.
I love that He did because of His great love for me.
Merry Christmas, readers, and please stop for a moment as the holiday season begins to remember why we are celebrating.