WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS TO ME

WHAT CHRISTMAS MEANS TO ME


As a Christian, I quietly reflect on what Christmas means to me. I am reminded of a gift from Jesus....my own life.

It is the love He gave to each of us that we must share with one another. It's not about presents and alcohol and parties and time off work. It's quietly helping a neighbour or listening to a friend; laughing and playing with a child or loving a dependent animal.

If we have an opportunity to give and extend a willing hand to someone less fortunate than we, then that is doing what Jesus would want us to do. No-one needs to know who we choose to help out with food, money or just a hug.

He expects us to have each other's back, to not be a malicious spreader of gossip, to preserve and protect our own extended families and to love them unconditionally.

Christmas has the word "Christ" in it for a reason. For those of us who believe in Him, it is a special honour and priviledge to celebrate His birthday.

Happy Birthday, Jesus; oh Holy night.

BETTY-LOU

I wrote this when I really knew she was dying; she loved it!


BETTY LOU


Her coat was red, her hat was too
Under hair so snowy white
Her lips were painted red as well
Her eyes, oh so bright.

We met in church one winter Sunday
And I knew right away
That I liked this classy lady
Who, too, had lived away.

Many visits and trips to the city
We became close friends
Playing cribbage & telling jokes
Recalling our childhood sins.

We'd been daughters & we'd been wives
Each had a girl and a boy
We both loved our horses
We bring each other joy.

We see each other rarely now
Do our talking on the phone
Always worrying about the other
Since we both live all alone.

Her health has given us a scare
But now the worst is past
Soon she'll paint her lips bright red
And move not slow but fast.

A stranger once, forever my friend
There's none other like you
What a blessing you have been
My chum, my pal....my Betty Lou!


We lost her in Nov. 2010. R.I.P., my friend, until we meet again.

Number 19

NUMBER 19


It was the 19th Remembrance Day dinner she had attended with-out him. She ran a comb through her white hair and smeared a bit of red lipstick across her thin lips. The black wool coat would do & she pinned the new, red poppy on her lapel.

Soon her tall son and his lovely wife would arrive to pick her up for the short drive to the hall. They both thought she shouldn't drive anymore though she still had a drivers license and a car. Sometimes she was tempted to just get in it and drive but wasn't sure she actually could find her way back home.

There were times she couldn't remember much; other times, she could recall when her late husband proposed to her, what she'd said, how she lived, loved and laughed. Now there were many times she wished she had no memory at all.

She looked up at the clock, saw she had dressed too early and sat down in a kitchen chair to wait for her son. She glanced across the table to visulize her late husband's face. He would be smiling with his twinkling blue eyes, sipping a beer or his hot tea and asking "Want to eat in tonight or go out, Mum?"

He had always called her Mum since she had their first and only child. She didn't mind; in fact, she loved it! This grey morning, she smiled to herself, remembering.

When he came back from the war, he never once spoke of it or the many awards bestowed upon him. And just before he died at the age of 65, he reminded her of his wish to have the Maple Leaf flag draped over his casket.

Her son arrived and helped her into the back seat of his car where she buckled up her seatbelt and greeted her daughter-in-law. She felt like a widow all over again; these dinners were lovely but took their toll.

The car was parked, her coat hung up, she bowed her head with the others while a Minister asked God's blessing on their food. And she began to cry....

People around her heard yet she was unashamed. They were tears for not only her late husband but for herself and all the war widows.

On the drive home, her son asked how she liked her dinner and if she'd enjoyed herself? Her silence spoke volumns and he turned up the radio. His wife turned around to pat her mother-in-law on the knee, a gesture of great comfort to her.

She waved good-bye as she unlocked the door, removed her heavy coat and unpinned the poppy. She saw all the other 18 in the drawer and felt fresh tears falling. How many more would there be? How many more would she have to endure with-out him by her side?

She sat in the dark and recalled her soldier boy.......oh, so handsome and fine in his uniform and cap. He wanted to be buried in it but of course, it was much too small. He gave up his youth for freedom and both of his legs for his country, Canada.

She added the poppy to the drawer......number 19.

REMEMBRANCE DAY

REMEMBRANCE DAY

It's Remembrance Day in Canada
A day off work to remember
To appreciate our freedom
A proud day in November;
We wear our red poppies
And say a silent prayer
For world peace someday
And freedom everywhere.

Some attend church services
Cemeteries, for the rest
Then there's some of us
Who feel that it is Just.....
To celebrate in silence
And quietly remember
Remembrance Day is everyday
For soldiers in November.

DADDY

DADDY

She said "Daddy, where's your arm?
Did you lose it in the war?"
He answered as he always did
"Please just close the door."

He'd only been home a week
And could not face the fact
That his fighting days were over
He wouldn't be going back.

The phone rang several times
He said it was too soon
To speak to anyone just yet
"Maybe this afternoon."

She said "Daddy, but it's Mommy
Calling from Iraq"
He answered as he always did:
"Tell her to stay safe & hurry back."