Welcome 2021

 

At the End of the Year

The particular mind of the ocean
Filling the coastline’s longing
With such brief harvest
Of elegant, vanishing waves
Is like the mind of time
Opening us shapes of days.

As this year draws to its end,
We give thanks for the gifts it brought
And how they became inlaid within
Where neither time nor tide can touch them.

The days when the veil lifted
And the soul could see delight;
When a quiver caressed the heart
In the sheer exuberance of being here.

Surprises that came awake
In forgotten corners of old fields
Where expectation seemed to have quenched.

The slow, brooding times
When all was awkward
And the wave in the mind
Pierced every sore with salt.

The darkened days that stopped
The confidence of the dawn.

Days when beloved faces shone brighter
With light from beyond themselves;
And from the granite of some secret sorrow
A stream of buried tears loosened.

We bless this year for all we learned,
For all we loved and lost
And for the quiet way it brought us
Nearer to our invisible destination.

John O’Donohue, Irish poet and philosopher

Angela’s Song

Dolores Riordan (Cranberries)

Rest with me
We’ll be warm and free to dream
Of all the things yet to come
For you my little one

Look up high and see
All the stars above you and me
They shine a light on all the things to come
For you my little one

Stay with me
Forget the cold streets of Limerick city
Let’s drift away and sing our song
And dream on and on

Lay with me
Let us sing a sweet melody
Of all the things yet to come
For you my little one

Look up high and see
All the stars above you and me
They shine a light on all the things to come
For you my little one

Look up high and see
All the stars above you and me
They shine a light on all the things to come
For you my little one

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RCw1xxeNZJk&ab_channel=JustaSarah

Grandma taught me everything about Christmas. and Christmas Lights

 

On Santa's Team

My grandma taught me everything about Christmas. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my big sister dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," jeered my sister. "Even dummies know that!"

My grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her world-famous cinnamon buns.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me.

"No Santa Claus!" she snorted. "Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumour has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad. Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors, Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days.

"Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car." Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother, but never had I shopped for anything all by myself. The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends, my neighbours, the kids at school, the people who went to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobbie Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class. Bobbie Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out for recess during the winter. His mother always wrote a note, telling the teacher that he had a cough; but all we kids knew that Bobbie Decker didn't have a cough, and he didn't have a coat.

I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobbie Decker a coat. I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that. I didn't see a price tag, but ten dollars ought to buy anything. I put the coat and my ten-dollar bill on the counter and pushed them toward the lady behind it.

She looked at the coat, the money, and me. "Is this a Christmas present for someone?" she asked kindly. "Yes," I replied shyly. "It's ... for Bobbie. He's in my class, and he doesn't have a coat." The nice lady smiled at me. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat in Christmas paper and ribbons, and write, "To Bobbie, From Santa Claus" on it ... Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy.

Then she drove me over to Bobbie Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially one of Santa's helpers. Grandma parked down the street from Bobbie's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Suddenly, Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going."

I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his doorbell twice and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma. Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobbie. He looked down, looked around, picked up his present, took it inside and closed the door.

Forty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my grandma, in Bobbie Decker's bushes. That night, I realized that those awful rumours about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: Ridiculous!

Santa was alive and well ... AND WE WERE ON HIS TEAM!

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Christmas night, another fight
Tears, we cried a flood
Got all kinds of poison in
Of poison in my blood

I took my feet to Oxford Street
Trying to right a wrong
Just walk away, those windows say
But I can't believe she's gone

When you're still waiting for the snow to fall
Doesn't really feel like Christmas at all

Up above, candles on air flicker
Oh, they flicker and they float
And I'm up here holdin' on
To all those chandeliers of hope

Like some drunken Elvis singin'
I go singin' out of tune
Sayin' how I always loved you, darlin'
And I always will

Oh, when you're still waiting for the snow to fall
It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all
Still waiting for the snow to fall
It doesn't really feel like Christmas at all

Those Christmas lights light up the street
Down where the sea and city meet
May all your troubles soon be gone
Oh, Christmas lights, keep shinin' on

Those Christmas lights light up the street
Maybe they'll bring her back to me
And then all my troubles will be gone
Oh, Christmas lights, keep shinin' on

Oh, Christmas lights, light up the street
Light up the fireworks in me
May all your troubles soon be gone
Those Christmas lights keep shinin' on

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x7dSwQd4aEU&ab_channel=KevinMurray

Christmas "Nutrition for the Soul"

 

T'was a month before Christmas,

And all through the town,

People wore masks,

That covered their frown.

The frown had begun

Way back in the Spring,

When a global pandemic

Changed everything.

They called it corona,

But unlike the beer,

It didn’t bring good times,

It didn’t bring cheer.

Contagious and deadly,

This virus spread fast,

Like a wildfire that starts

When fuelled by gas

Airplanes were grounded,

Travel was banned.

Borders were closed

Across air, sea and land.

As the world entered lockdown

To flatten the curve,

The economy halted,

And folks lost their verve.

From March to July

We rode the first wave

People stayed home,

They tried to behave.

When summer emerged

The lockdown was lifted.

But away from caution,

Many folks drifted.

Now it’s November

And cases are spiking,

Wave two has arrived,

Much to our disliking.

Frontline workers,

Doctors and nurses

Try to save people,

From riding in hearses.

This virus is awful,

This COVID-19.

There isn’t a cure.

Not yet a vaccine.

It’s true that this year

Has had sadness a plenty,

We’ll never forget

The year 2020.

And just ‘round the corner -

The holiday season,

But why be merry?

Is there even one reason

To decorate the house

And put up the tree,

When no one will see it,

No one but me.

But outside my window

The winter now calls,

And I think to myself,

Let’s deck the halls!

So, I gather the ribbon,

The garland and bows,

As I play those old carols,

My happiness grows.

Christmas is not cancelled

And neither is hope.

If we lean on each other,

I know we can cope

 

 

The Best We Could Hope

© Jonathan Shaw, November 2020

 

What’s the best we could hope for when Covid appeared?

Attacking the lifestyle that we all held dear

A ruthless new virus infecting our world

New phrases and habits were quickly required

A more equitable world for us all seemed in store

As we focussed on others and cared for them more

We saw nature revived after years of neglect

We cherished its beauty and gave our respect

The first phase united as we flattened the curve

Supporting the front line was our way to serve

Re-opening the schools was then our resolve

Despite all the work we knew it would involve

What’s the best we can hope for as year-end draws near?

Will the country re-open and permit Christmas cheer?

A glimmer of hope that restrictions might end                                     

Once more see our loved ones - our family and friends

An uncertain Christmas was faced that first year

With Joseph and Mary and due date come near

Their treacherous travel by night and by day

An essential journey far beyond their 5k

Hospitality industry brought to its knees

As the village was crowded at Caesar’s decree

A shortage of beds led to desperate trouble

And the two were confined to their own social bubble

And while they cocooned in their hay-filled pod

That night was birthed the unique son of God

A hope for the nations, the Saviour appeared

The way back to God now through Jesus secured

The prophets foretold the forgiveness of sin

Death being defeated through his rising again

“Cheated death many times” as some might say

For 33 years till that fateful day

But the author of life they couldn’t suppress

As he rose from the grave with unmatched success

Died but then risen and true hope secured

Now death need not have the final word

What's the best we can hope for as we try to move on?

Will all this be over? Will Covid be gone?

We’re still here together caught up in the struggle

Unable to rescue ourselves from this trouble

‘All in this together’ but parted by choice

Divided by preference - no unified voice.

It was all in our hands to defeat this attack

But the progress soon stalled, before being pushed back

What if Covid is not the main thing we all fear

But the death that it leads to, it's ugly head reared

Behind closed doors we’d supressed it away

Brought out in the open as Covid held sway

Our new main objective: to suppress once again

The truth of mortality, journeyed with pain

The death rate may slip as the cases decline

But the truth still remains: one in every one dies.

We push it aside and prefer not to think

What lies just beyond when we come to the brink

Yet fear is defeated when death holds no fear

Not just for Christmas but all through the year

This truth lights the way through the darkness of life

And always gives hope through the struggle and strife

Jesus at Christmas – you mightn’t think twice

But had you considered this hope could suffice?

Jesus the Saviour is truly good news

Death is defeated and true life ensues

What’s the best we can hope for at Christmas this year?

A socially-distanced, uneventful affair

But “lift your eyes higher”, that’s Christmas’s call

Fear of death cancelled. That’s the best hope of all.

The Best We Could Hope

© Jonathan Shaw (2020)