Advent devotional

In a moment of weakness, I agreed again to edit the church's Advent devotional booklet. (Translation: I signed up to look up the bible readings for each day in Advent, troll for writers, nag until pieces are turned in, turn my brain inside out trying to keep the spatial arrangement of pages-in-a-booklet-format straight in my head, read and punctuate and grammar-scan and type or cut-and-paste everything into the same format, font, and arrangement, design a cover, then proofread, copy, print, fold and staple 150 copies plus a bunch of large-print versions, and then furnish the newsletter with weekly bites for those who prefer to get their devotions online...)

All right. I did temporarily take leave of my senses. I started in October, and it now looks like I may actually have it all together by the week before Advent begins. Depending on the vagaries of Xerox machines and schedules and whether or not my cover stock will jam the machine more frequently than usual. (It WILL jam it; it really is just a question of how often and how badly.)

My reward (presented by me, to me, and for me) for this effort is that I get to put my contribution wherever I want it and to write whatever I want without fear of being edited out. This year it's a poem (surprise) which I completed (Well, that's debatable. I reserve the right to mess around with it some more if I so desire...) this morning. The nice thing is...it's done. I can use it for writing group on Monday. I can use it for my Christmas cards. I can use it for the booklet. By god, I can whip it out for any or all occasions between now and the new year. Ahhhhh..... (printed below)

What Remains

After the hoopla,

the cards, and the lists and the shopping,

the anguish

of choosing gifts for all and sundry;

after the baking and parties and eggnog,

the cookies and candy and

the well-documented visits to Santa;

after tree and lights and music,

the midnight magic of a semi-darkened church

with its candles and carols and greetings;

after the perfect storm of people, paper, tape and tags

that we call Christmas

is finally done…

When the last child falls asleep,

sticky-mouthed and cranky

from too much of everything;

when the last airport shuttle has departed,

and the final car abandons the driveway;

when the guest room is empty,

and the boxes crushed,

and the last strand of ribbon

trails out of the trashcan;

when the tree lies, dry and exhausted,

at the curb for pickup,

its ornaments boxed and stored;

when normal comes back from its Christmas vacation…

What remains

is the memory of a baby

and the promise and the hope He brings.

What remains,

even when the world returns to black and white

from the red/green/sparkly snow-globe of December,

What remains,

like a warm, sweet treasure in our hearts,

even in the depths of disappointment,

discouragement, and dreary day-to-day,

What remains is this truth, this wonder, this blessing::

He is here, and dwells among us.