Under a blanket of white, fresh snow on Christmas morn, the sleepy village woke as church bells rang in honor of the Christ-child born.
Beside the tracks, white-framed, the old home-place still stood where 7 girls and 7 boys once gathered firewood.
Long since were gone, forever past, those glee-filled days when children laughed, half-wild with Christmas craze.
Not much remained the same. The well was gone, no pets now came to meet you as you sauntered up the lane.
The old pair, still there, with furrowed brow and frosted hair, wait in silent gaze, and for the world and all—have little care.
Children and their little ones return once more this Christmas Day, to eat and reminisce and let the cousins play.
The time flies and soon the happy Day is past. With pain we learn anew that Life—and Death—is fast.
The gifts we gave and got become a reason for a prayer of thanks for this glad season.
Together, one time more. The hours, oh so few; yet worth the work and toil that many hands must do.
Someday, maybe one day very soon, the family Christmas choir will sing its final tune.
Then wait to gather once again—next time to sing around the Throne—and in the Home, of Christ the King!
(Anthony Slutz, 1997)
Merry Christmas to all our family and friends, far and near!!
Anthony & Ellen Slutz
YOU and GOD 