Christian Middle

When we were children

Christmas was a time of Magic.

We did not understand

Its theology,

Or the history of its traditions,

But we could feel

What Christmas was about,

For the season spoke to us

In the language we knew best:

Dancing lights dazzled our eyes,

Merry carols sang in our ears,

Fresh pines perfumed our homes,

Sugary sweets melted in our mouths.

All our senses taught us

That something special was afoot,

And though we may have gone all too present-crazy,

Santa Claus was rightly our hero in those days.

In him our beloved, but incredible,

World of fantasy

Touched reality,

And for one night a year

All the world believed in Magic!

 

Or so we thought …

 

Now we are grownups,

And Christmas seems to speak to us

In a new tongue.

It seems that we have

Madison Avenue,

Instead of Magic.

Christmas lights waste energy,

And Christmas treats are just

Too many calories.

If we are present-crazy now,

It is because we haven’t finished out shopping.

 

We protest that there isn’t Time—

Time to appreciate the

True Meaning of Christmas—

Forgetting, of course,

That the Secret of Christmas

Doesn’t require our leisure—

Only a heart, willing in part

To become a child again—

To remember that sense of mystery

About the night

When the incredible became real,

And to realize that Someone

Even more wonderful

Entered our world that night,

And has not left us since.