Christmas
By Joan Estelle High
© December 2004

Mary,  Joseph,  Holy Child,  three who did share a cave most small.
You would find us rich beyond belief  from your shelter in a stall.
Not rich as those who then did rule. No Cadillacs, you only had a mule.
Sweet little baby so snug in your nest,  Nestled close on your mother's arm
 You suckled at your mother's breast,  no canned milk to do you any harm.
Later on you would sit and wait to eat,. not micro waved food on a paper plate.
Roasted leg of lamb with herbs so sweet, this is a meal for which all would wait.
Fragrant pungent odors fill  the room., The flickering shadows on yonder wall
Dance on silently to an unheard tune. Like an old picture show that we recall.
No beds on which you turn and toss. Just some sweet hay formed into a bed.
Covered with a plain homespun cloth, a place to rest and lay your weary head.
This  little family all alone in the night, they were just eating, loving and living.
Somehow they had something right, look at the  good example they were giving.
Dear Joseph,  you gave Mary your love, you chose all Mary's burdens to bear.
You could have put her away in shame, instead  choose to give her your name.
Mary you gave Jesus the gift of His life, and gave your entire life to His care.
Oh, how your heart must have been broken, when they hung this  child so fair.
 Jesus, you too gave all that you had, you just  tried  to show us the right way.
Your father's will was within you still, as even to death on the cross you obey.
I do know we live in another time, our standards are not the same in living.
But may God help us so we might learn, the  difference in getting and giving.