St. Pauls Almonte

Submitted by Rev. Mary Ellen Berry
‘Twas the month before Christmas and
what should I hear, as I stroll through the mall
at this time of year?
Strains of ‘White Christmas’ and ‘Jingle Bell Rock’
waft down from the speakers as I ponder and walk.

“O dear!” says I, for Christmas is weeks away.
“How is it we hear this music today?”
And then what should I see as I turn to the right?
But old St Nick and his elf in broad daylight.

The children chatter - gathered in a line so long;
their parents hover close by - faces white and drawn -
as they imagine the wish lists as long as an arm,
and wonder if they’ll need to sell the farm.

I snort, turn away, and heave a great sigh;
but then a bookstore - O rats! - has caught my eye.
And propped up in front, O, so fine-looking
is Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking.

I summon my resolve against the ad-man’s odds
and soldier on, determined to resist the inner prods.
And for now, my heart is at rest,
as I’ve abandoned my flight of fancy and jest.

But nevertheless, I must beware of the desire that lurks
in the shadows of Christmas with all the works.
It’s turkey and stuffing, it’s stocking and present,
that steal my time and pursue unrelentent.

It’s tinsel and glitter, and great glistening globes,
it’s Donner and Blitzen, and men in red robes
that seize the mind, the heart, and the soul
as visions of sugarplums through dreams do scroll.

Dear Lord, I wish I may, I wish I might
resist the gild of Christmas, that holy night;
so that when I cast my gaze skyward I can say
my eyes beheld a star and not a sleigh.
And that, my friends, from me is the last you’ll hear
about the commercialization of Christmas, this year.