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'Twas the night before Christmas
(with a difference)

An anonymous poem, submitted by Jane Anne Waller jwaller@cgocable.net.

'Twas the fight before Christmas when all through the house
Not a good deed was stirring, and Dad was a louse!
Their mother was angry and loaded with care,
'Cause the gift list was longer than ever this year!

The children were nagging for gifts worth a ton,
And Dad was convinced, "Christmas just isn't fun!"
With Mom's loud complaining, and Dad mad at all,
They loaded the car for the trip to the mall!

They stopped first at Sears to buy Grandma a platter,
At Wards Sis tried on jeans that confirmed she was fatter!
They stopped at the ATM for some more cash,
And saw their new neighbours with their Christmas stash!

Hearts sank as they saw what their neighbours could spend,
"We've got to buy more!" Everybody chimed in!
When, what to their shopping red eyes should appear,
But a sign with the answer to their Christmas fear.
"Use credit, use VISA, use MasterCard,
Just run up their limits, it's not very hard!"

More rapid than eagles, the charges, they came
And they whistled and shouted and called them by name.
Now Nordstroms, now K-Mart, now Price Club and Kinneys,
To Broadway, to Target, we'll finish at Penney's!
To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
Their packages piled up; they'd out-bought them all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle mount to the sky,
So flew away hope of a Christmas of joys,
Not a problem was changed by the gifts and the toys.
And then, in a twinkling, Dad knew without doubt,
They needed to know, "What is Christmas about?"

That night in a dream he saw Bethlehem town,
And a babe in a manger with thorns for a crown!
And then what Dad saw brought the tears like a flood,
Christ's back was all tarnished where lashes brought blood.

A rugged old cross was his tortuous rack,
As he shifted it's weight to his now bleeding back.
His eyes, filled with burdens, 'twas nothing there merry,
The thorns had no roses, the night became eerie.
His dry thirsty mouth was drawn thin like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was plucked out cruelly, and slow.

The cross from his back held him high in his shame,
And the soldiers encircled his death with a game.
He had a kind face, in his eyes none saw hate,
And he shook when they laughed at his horrible fate.
He was dying for me, took my sins on himself,
And I wept when I saw him, in spite of myself.

A look in his eye, and the twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know, I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work;
And he took all my sin, and then turned with a jerk.
"It is finished," he said. Death he willingly chose,
Then glory to God, from the grave He arose!!

Dad sprang from his bed, shouting what Christmas gives.
"It's not all the gifts, but that Jesus now lives!"
So you'll hear them exclaim, on their next Christmas night,
Happy Christmas to all, who will keep Christmas right!

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