A Christmas Poem

This poem is the result of trying to write an authentic Christmas letter explaining the mixed emotions and grief of 2015. The stanza headings are taken from Christina Rossetti's In the Bleak Midwinter and Mary Chapin Carpenter's beautiful song Come Darkness Come Light. The words feel just as true for me (if not more so) this year as they did when I wrote it, so after a little editing I am sharing again.Thank you for stopping by to read, I look forward to hearing how it resonates with you.

In the bleak midwinter earth stood hard as iron water like a stone.

Losses

Chunks of heart and soul

Chiseled, crumbling still.

Grief, that great equalizer,

No one finishes this human race in-tact.

Snow had fallen, snow on snow on snow.

Our shoulders droop.

Our muscles ache.

We are touchy, defensive

and cry.

Come darkness, Come light, Come love to this world tonight

The way we hold our family

allowing ourselves weep.

The way we sit with friends and drink

when it's impossible to sleep.

The frantic way we tell our stories

memorializing, lest we begin to forget.  

You've all been down this road.

Come broken, Come whole, Come wounded in your soul, Come anyway you know

We put one foot in front of the other,

We worry about another misstep.

We wake, some mornings, almost forgetting.

We try to pray.

We cling to time-tested words in the prayer book as we struggle to find our own.

We grasp at faith like catching shadows.

We reason with doubt; he doesn’t have much to say.

We are constrained by a finite window into our story; its tiny position in the web of history.

We are desperate as you are to trust “all things work together for good”...

Come doubting, come sure, come fearful to this door, come see what love is for

War, terrorism, politics, are in cahoots to exacerbate our fear.

“Yours are mundane baby losses”, they scream, 

“Look what’s happening to them, over there”.

We live in perilous times to be sure

This world was never safe

Comparisons only deflect

Losing is not a competition

My subscription to that myth has expired

I’ve decided once and for all not to renew

You probably have been inundated with the spam on this one too.

Our God, Heaven cannot hold Him, nor earth sustain; Heaven and earth shall flee away when he comes to reign. In the bleak midwinter a stable place sufficed The Lord God Almighty, Jesus Christ.

The light comes in.

We squint and hide.

The sculpture is emerging.

We find new reasons to laugh.

We interlace our fingers.

We phone a friend.

We ask for prayer.

We hold each other tight.

We recognize impermanence demands we take no gift for granted;

We were so blissfully ignorant this time last year.

There's a humble stable and the light within, There's an angel hovering and three wise men, Today babies born in Bethlehem.

The world takes a collective sigh,

Christians everywhere rejoice.  

Despite all reason, and the Grinch’s careful calculations,

Us Whos down in Who-Ville can still be found singing!

There is hope in our ransacked world (for more than roast beast)

There is humor!

There is healing (“The Grinch’s small heart grew three sizes that day…”)

Come running, Come walking slow, Come weary on your broken road, Come see Him and shed your heavy load "

And so we move in the general direction; baby steps towards grace.

Each moment of healing, prefaced with gratitude

Truest, purest, heart wrenching, gratefulness is the antidote.

We treasure “what was” and are hopeful for “what will be”.

“What is”, now that requires us to get our hands dirty.  

When we do, love is sprouting up;

Brave tendrils climbing out from beneath the mess of dust and stone.

You know from personal experience; everything is possible.

Angels and archangels may have gathered there, Cherubim and seraphim thronged in the air; But His mother only, in her maiden bliss, Worshipped the beloved with a kiss.

Gratitude not in spite of... or relative to ...

But gratitude, for the sacred-ordinary, life-perpetuating miracles breathing life

into the stony edifice of self-condemnation.

(Like water into wine; perhaps?)

Suffering into Grace

Pain into Mercy

Fighting into compassion

Shame into forgiveness.

What can I give him poor as I am if I were a shepherd I would bring a lamb if I were a wise man I would do my part yet what can I give him I give him my heart.

A toddler cinches his arms in a tight hug around my leg

Longing pushes against my larynx; my uninhabitable body contracts

Inhale, deep breath slowly,

Today, I am content.

The bulbs are blooming in the courtyard,

Our puppy licks my face.

We can't pick up the phone to call you, but,

We smile knowing exactly what you would say.

Reflexively babies start to smile, next in imitation and soon they use it with intention.

This tiny hand is barely able to encircle my finger as he squeezes.

Without words, a  conversation begins;

We trade happiness back and forth.

Those eyes so sweet so new and searching for clues in an unfamiliar face.

In those eyes there is hope,

For our world;

This generation

This baby,

They will lead us towards

Renewal, love and peace.