Making Christmas - By Sharon Flood Kasenberg

Making Christmas:

I looked out my window,
and what do you know?
A nasty grey drizzle
had melted my snow!
And rain in December,
it just isn't right -
It clouds o'er my Christmas
and stifles delight.
"But I will be happy",
I said to myself.
The mood of the weather
I'll put on the shelf.
I'll turn on the tree lights
and get down to work.
I've got things to finish,
there's no time to shirk!"
So I frosted cookies
then popped up some corn.
I got plenty done before
it was mid-morn.
Then old friend stopped by
with some cookies on plate.
I felt pretty good then -
in fact, I felt great!
Before long another
appeared at my door -
this one bearing presents -
what could I ask more?
On grey drizzly day when
the weather is bleak,
and for Christmas spirit
so wearied I seek -
I turned on my lights and
though skies never cleared,
The grey in my heart - well,
it just disappeared!
I kept making Christmas
for my family,
and others showed up who
made Christmas for me!

Sharon Flood Kasenberg, December 19, 2017

It's not often that I post twice in the space of a week, but when inspiration hits, why not?

Christmas has been very busy this year. It seemed to sneak up on me. Until yesterday I still thought it was two weeks away - seriously. So yesterday was a very harried day as I rushed to finish up the Christmas baking. Today I woke up feeling more like I had a decent grip on this whole Christmas thing - and then I looked out the window.

Nothing douses my Christmas spirit faster than a rainy day in December. I get gloomy at the mere thought that we might have a green Christmas. I'm a northern girl - born and bred in Sault Ste. Marie - and Christmas is just plain supposed to be white. And not "a skiff of snow white", but a full fledged grab your skates and/or toboggan white.

So I will admit that the clouds and drizzle made my holiday spirit go fizzle...

But there were things to do and I had no time to mope, so I turned on my indoor Christmas lights and got down to work. I frosted cookies. I watered my plants. I put together a couple of cookie tins for friends. I started making caramel popcorn (a favourite stocking stuffer in our household) - and then, there was a knock on my door.

Our realtor came by with cookies. He's an interesting guy, our realtor. He moonlights as a part-time pastry chef, and makes lovely European delicacies that he sometimes sells to restaurants. (He's that good.) He's also a really nice guy, so a visit from him is always pleasant. He came in and we had a brief visit. I gave him a tour of the house, and he admitted that if there's a house he's sold that he wishes he could've bought himself, this one is it.

Well, the cookies made me pretty happy, but knowing how much he likes my house reminded me just how much I like my house - which made me happier still.

He'd barely left when a friend stuck her head in my front door and called out to me. She came bearing gifts - one for me, and one for our exchange student. They were really sweet, thoughtful gifts - and like the Grinch I could feel my heart getting two sizes bigger.

You see, "Holiday Dreams Sharon" still makes the odd appearance. She tells me I put in all kinds of time cleaning and preparing and "making Christmas happen." She whispers in my ear, "they don't really appreciate all the time you put into this!"

Oh, I know she's wrong. I know it when my grown sons still ask (with a look of avid hope) if I'm making their favourite treat this year. I know it when the one who lives here happily helps trim the tree - and his brother says, "Save some ornaments for me to hang!" I know it when our exchange student casts longing glances as yet another container of goodies is put in the fridge. I know it when my husband salivates as I run through my repertoire of daily baking tasks, or looks around our house and says, "She sure does dress up nicely for Christmas!"

But in spite of all the affirmation that I get from my menfolk, sometimes I get weary - like I did this morning. And at times like that nothing can boost spirits more than having a friend (or two!) stop by and chat. The gifts and cookies were bonus. The real gift is knowing that I'm being thought of. The real gift is being reminded that I have a really great place to live. The real gift is knowing I'm loved.

The real gift is knowing that what comes around, really does go around. The Christmas that I'm busy making for others is elsewhere being made for me.

Merry Christmas (again!) from the Rhyming Muse, and may you all "make Christmas" in the best way you can for those you love and care for.