December 21, 2007

My Journey to God

A Child’s Christmas in Vincennes

Dylan couldn’t remember
The 12 days or six nights,
But he could remember snow,
Much snow.
Few flakes fell on me or mine,
But we had Christmases
As magical as those in Wales.

The white-flocked tree
Became a jeweled lady
Who watched and twinkled
As Nana cooked in the old kitchen
Of the old house, on the old street
In the old town.

Aproned and flour-dusted, she
Performed culinary wonders
On her steaming stove.
Green mints and flannel-red cherries
Became small poinsettias on
White frosted cakes.
Raisin pies hummed from their oven
And divinity winked from its plate
Of lace.

Outside, a plastic Joseph and
A plastic Mary watched over
A plastic Baby Jesus
In a stable made of old boards and pine.
A radio under the crib reminded
Neighbors strolling by
That herald angels sang praises to
The newborn King, even if He was
plastic,
And that Santa Claus was considering
Coming to town

Even if it didn’t get a flake of snow.

By Susie McAllister

(Susie McAllister is a member of Our Lady of Lourdes Parish in Indianapolis. She wrote this poem about her memories of Christmas while growing up in Vincennes, Ind.) †

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