It’s beginning to feel
a lot like Christmas.
All around our home.
Children cut snowflakes,
while Mommy reads out loud,
A Christmas Carol or maybe
Stubby Pringle's Christmas.
Paper bits build in drifts along the floor.
A child calls, “Read some more!”
They create beauty while hearing
tales of kindness, joy,
forgiveness, and
Christlike love.
Giggles and whispered secrets.
Siblings making gifts for siblings.
Paper dolls for a sister.
Dragon sock puppets for brothers.
Hand drawn art on a t-shirt.
Crochet snowflake.
Snow--dots of potential fun--
drifts from the sky.
Children pile into
cold and freedom.
Boisterous shouts, too loud inside,
fill the outside perfectly.
Snowmen and snowball fights.
Sledding, exploring
whitewashed worlds.
Carols 'round the piano,
Off key and robust.
Daddy's bass voice an
intune anchor for the rest of us.
Joy to the World, followed by
Hey, Ho, Nobody Home, and
California Raisins version of
We Three Kings.
Service Angels, added nightly to our tree.
Time to reflect on how we’ve served another.
Mostly little things:
Read to a sibling, chose patience,
did dishes for mom, listened.
And sometimes a little bigger:
temple service, clean church house,
caroling at the rest home.
Our gifts to the Christ child.
It’s beginning to feel
a lot like Christmas.
Even with sibling spats
and parenting mishaps.
We are growing closer to the
One whose birthday we celebrate.
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