This year I’m craving an intimate Christmas.
Just me, settling down with my Jesus, alone.
I’ll light a candle, and sit at the table.
I’ll eat a sumptuous supper for one.

I’ll listen to music about His arrival.
I’ll wonder at prophecies finally come true.
I’ll ponder the star in the cold dark sky distance,
and realize that I long to follow it too.

I’ll thank Him, for blessings He’s heaped on me daily;
and those yet wrapped, waiting by tomorrow’s tree.
We’ll laugh at some memories. Weep over sorrows,
and smile at the children all wiggly with glee.

My spirit is starved for this intimate Christmas.
Just Mary, and Joseph, a shepherd or two,
and me sitting cross-legged in straw by a manger
in love, and in wonder such love could be true!

What joy, as I anticipate such a Christmas:
The music of centuries, silent, and free!
Intense hours have rendered each peace-filled one sacred.
This year, I need solitude: Jesus, and  me.