2025 Christmas Poem

 

(written on New Year’s Eve)

 

Yet

 

I have not written it yet.

 

Put forth the words of a year,

Recalled the months in rear.

Printed out those memories dear.

 

Yet, I’ve done everything else expected of me.

 

Cards, gifts, décor and tree;

Gatherings, texting, and a wrapping spree.

Decided to host an afternoon tea.

 

I’ve eluded the poem, not feeling the vibe yet.

 

No wanting to dwell

For my eyes to swell

As I painfully retell.

 

I’ve not written it yet—

 

Because God had me wait

Until He spoke His Words of love over hate

Renewed that hope in a plan that is great.

 

~~~

 

Parents killing children, children murdering parents.

 

Floods swept up campers, and planes hit the ground,

Evil aiming guns and truth and innocence shot down.

Fires burned up whole towns. 

 

Infection settled in and gave us a scare. That One Word from the Psalm chapters gave rest.

 

My beloved lay silent but the machines--they drum,

Beeping and pumping, a constant hum,

“Where does my help come from?”

 

That rhetorical question asked in every scenario. Do you remember? Do you know?

 

“The Lord, the Maker of Heaven and earth.”

He answers and asks us to recall His birth

The Babe, the Man, the God who gave us worth.

 

“I have told you things in my Word for your peace.”

 

In this world there is trouble, depravity and hate

But Love is the answer to make our path straight.

Christ overcame sin and all its weight.

 

God answered prayer this year in grace and provision.

 

For what I care for, those close and adored,

In abundance and wisdom, a hope restored.

Sons and daughters will come back to You Lord.

 

Yet still, a great desire for the all to be calm. He’s not finished…yet.

 

God incarnate, a personal relationship.

The promised Messiah, victory over a death grip

Resurrected, forgiven, joy and grace in the hardship.

 

Just believe and ask Him to show You His truth.

 

Admit you’re in need; let go your own depravity and fears

God makes a way and holds all your tears.

Be born-again for eternity’s years.

 

That baby, Christmas, a choice made every day.

 

To live surrendered yet held captive in wonder,

To worship with His church in splendor,

To know I am loved by God, the Creator.

 

Good-bye to a year of trials and perseverance, miracles and growth; the known and unknown.

 

Yet I welcome the God who pursues.

And pray for His Will and a better attitude.

To hope, rejoice and reflect godly gratitude.

 

Yet, He waits.

Aaah, Summer

Aaah, Summer. A time for me to wake up when my mind tells me to, not the alarm. Conversation with God in the morning with warm coffee in hand, percolates in me a peaceful approach for the rest of the day. Wellness, mindfulness of His promises, the birds sing for they already know. I enjoy the June “gloom” although I think of it as “beachy” weather and soak up the afternoon rays, tending to my growing garden. I might just take a few pictures and zoom into nature and the wonder of it all, cell phone camera in hand. It’s quiet time, reflection time, assessment time. Yes, I do have a few projects to tackle, creative things I wish to explore and conversations to have. Summer for me brings refreshment, like a refill of a tall iced tea, a diving in to the pool of goodness and remembrance of what God has done, the opening up even more so of the sunflower petals revealing more seeds for His purposes, a little exploring possibly. Summer, a sanctuary season of hope, a peaceful paradise for my soul, an opportunity to listen to my own thoughts and lay them like a blanket against the innumerable warm sand grains of God’s plan.

Aaah, Summer. My phone rings early, very early. It’s my Texas buddy who I’d like to think is so anxious to talk with me, confuses the time difference. Weren’t you suppose to call at 9? Your time or my time? We giggle. That’s OK, because…actually, I am super excited to chit-chat with her! We talk about life stuff, the good and the difficult, past and present, justice and relationships, tornado sirens and preparedness, faith-filled friends and hope in their circumstances. We'll do it all over agan next week, though I hope not so early for me. 

Do you have a friend who points you always to God? Our common concerns leads us to the same conclusion, we must keep trusting Him. Amen.

Aaah, Summer. I hear noises downstairs and I am reminded that today, construction (tearing up before something new comes) begins on a wall in my living room. This rental house, our home the last 12 years needs a few improvements and…its summer, I’m home. 

“Hola… can we come in?”

It begins. I am still in P.J.’s.  I lock myself upstairs and prepare for the day.  It is Tuesday, the first Tuesday of my summer. The gardeners come on Tuesday and I hear the rumble of multiple lawn mowers and blowers.  A bit later, I come downstairs. Now covered in plastic sheeting to protect from dust and flying debris, my living area is off limits. I move around the corner to the hallway and kitchen.

Puddles. Water. Not the kind you want to run through for summer fun.

The toilet downstairs chose to overflow, somewhere between the time hubby left for work and my trek downstairs. I knock on my son’s door and squish onto his carpet.

Aaah, Summer. Our small wet/dry vac does not do the job, so a borrowed one, industrial-size, finds its way from the neighbor’s house to ours. Now, my “quiet world” shouts lawn mowers, hammers, sawzalls, talking construction workers and a large vacuum cleaner.  I settle into my thoughts. My plans are not God’s plans. I hear Him above the noise. 

New things take work. Broken things need attention and sometimes demand it in not such a graceful way. Maintenance is something we must do every day, consistently in our week to stimulate more growth and rid the weeds. You can tell which places do that, those that don't. 

I know which one I want to reflect. 

Aaah, Summer. Maybe it’s not the quiet peace I need to pull into, though that is a good thing, but it's how God shows up in the disruptive places, the over flowing, uncertain places, the messy places. Isn’t that me?

Wake me up God, with your voice of love and hope. Pull me downstairs Lord and deconstruct my attitude and frame again, the parts that do not reflect or lead to Your Glory. Mow me over, Lord, with Your grace and goodness and show me how to best maintain my Spirit towards Your sovereign plan. I long to trust You more with the outcomes I do not yet see. 

Aaah, Summer. One day at a time to shine and prepare for a Harvest of magnificent bounty. Thank you Spirit, like the sunflower, keep my head turning towards You... in anything and everything, in all things. 

Like a Monet painting displayed before me, my butterfly garden is viewed through a lens of construction plastic. Beauty in not just in the ashes but can be displayed in the process as well. 

Considerably Yours... even in construction,

Coleene