Wednesday, December 31, 2014

A Joyful Moment, 6.6.13

A joy quickly passing
But bright in its moment
From a love that is lasting
As pure as it is rare

The laughter of a second
That fades in the air
But holds in it stories
Of all that is true and fair

Rampant Thoughts, 12.26.13

Staying up late
Know I ought to go to bed
Too many thoughts
Running rampant in my head

Want to do this
Or do that instead
So many thoughts
Running rampant in my head

Tuesday, December 30, 2014

Broken Memory, 12.29.13

Slipped between my fingers
Clattered on the floor

The only memory I held dear
And now no more

I let it go on purpose
Time to move on

But now I feel a change
Now that it is gone

Monday, December 29, 2014

Memories Forgotten, 8.26.13

Would you leave behind the memories
If God gave you that choice?
And lose the only thing you have,
The memory of his voice

Would forgetfulness accomplish
What nothing else could
And might your heart heal
As the ghosts fade from these woods

Tuesday, December 2, 2014

Why I Hate Santa

Because a child believing in Santa means parents are lying to their children.

Because when an enlightened child tells an unenlightened child the truth about Santa, the mother of the enlightened child gets an angry phone call from the mother of the unenlightened child.

Because the very premise of Santa is bribing children to behave well.

Because I heard a mother once say that her children had to "believe to receive", thus showing that her children had to perpetuate the lie in order to get gifts from the parents.

Because having Santa turns Christmas into a holiday all about receiving, not a whit about giving.

Because some people say they teach their children about Santa because "they don't want them to miss out on Christmas".

Because I have heard Santa described as "Whenever someone gives to someone else, whenever there is love, that is Santa."  And that disgusts me.

Because twice now, when discussing Jesus, God, and angels, my students have brought up Santa.

And most importantly, because when one of my five-year-olds asked me if Santa was real, I couldn't tell him the truth, because 12 sets of childish, excited ears were listening, and I couldn't make myself break that many hearts (I didn't want 12-24 angry phone calls this afternoon either). Also, because today I told my kids that someday soon I will tell them about Santa, and I have no idea what I'm going to say.