‘Twas the morning of Christmas,
And Santa was spent,
Having just returned home
From his yearly event.
After taking his shower
And downing his Joe,
He awoke Mrs. Claus
With a sweet kiss hello.
On their loveseat they sat
With the best Book on earth
To read St. Luke’s account
Of the Christ Child’s birth.
“By miraculous means
A young woman conceived,
And the baby she bore
Would save all the deceived,”
“Which includes you and me,”
Santa said, his voice low;
His eyes brimming with tears
From his heart’s overflow.
“And the best gift of all
Doesn’t come from my sleigh.
No, the best gift of all?
Sacred love, in scant hay.”
© Marie Elena Good, 2020
If one knew not what Christmas was about,
it seems that they’d find little evidence
of Jesus Christ. Not much to make them doubt
the countless signs of our greed’s eminence.
The season focuses on “perfect” gifts,
beginning in our early childhood.
Our storefronts mostly offer toys and glitz,
all tempting us to spend more than we should.
It’s not that I’m a “humbug.” Truly, not.
But when I’m home from shopping, my heart warms.
My focus shifts from things that I have bought,
to what I wish were more the season’s norms.
A Christmas flag portrays Christ’s holy birth.
A swaddled Baby rests in bed of straw:
This One Who Saves, through whom we have our worth,
Whose sinless life fulfilled for us God’s law.
The manger scene glows warm beneath my tree,
while Santa makes his presence known nearby –
his hat removed, head bowed, on bended knee,
in humble awe. Let God be glorified!
Let’s celebrate the birth of God’s own Son.
In Him, our full redemption has been won!
© Marie Elena Good, 2019
Infinite grace, unhindered and free
Limitless mercy, darkness eclipsed
Undeserved pardon, lavished on me
Gratitude lies unexpressed on my lips
Silence of tongue, and hands I can’t raise
Words strung together fall short in their worth
Only my tears are fluent in praise
Here in my tears, my worship gives birth
Eloquent tears spill praise to The King
Dampening cheeks He crafted in love
Moistening lips that yearn to sing
Genuine worship to God above
© Marie Elena Good, 2014
Entombed in darkness –
and yet never extinguished.
The Light of the World.
(c) Marie Elena Good, 2019
#seventeeninnineteen
Image Credit: Spun By Me
(Marie E of Spun By Me: If you happen on this post of mine, I hope you don’t mind that I used your image. I had a very difficult time finding one with the stone still rolled in front of the tomb, to represent Holy Saturday. I also could not find a way to comment or contact you on your site to get permission to use the image. On a side-note, I found it of interest that your name is Marie E., as mine is as well [Marie Elena]. May God bless you.)
Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
Tell me again
how You parted
the waters
that threatened my soul
to sink.
Remind me
the healings
when reeling
from lie’s ink;
death’s brink.
Retell the hell
from which
you snatched my feet.
Unseat untruth
I tell my past.
I ask, let’s talk
of solid rock
that drenched the earth
and quenched
my thirst.
Recall for me
the blood-soaked tree –
the guarantee
you set me free
from me.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017
Bleeding Heart Photo by Deanna Marie Metts
I used to think I knew the God I know.
But over time, I’ve come to know Him more.
More intimately close than long ago,
I’ve learned more of this Heart I can’t ignore.
In part, I’ve come to recognize my sin
As more egregious than I had before.
This veil of righteousness is wispy thin,
For I am but a sinner at my core.
The realization of the heart of God,
Whose love spilled blood for even such as I
(A seemingly good woman, deeply flawed),
Just makes me long to praise and glorify
The One who drew me to Him as a child,
In whom I’ve grown remarkably beguiled.
© Marie Elena Good, 2017