Christmas is a construct
We've been listening to lies
There's no reindeer in the stable
Santa wasn't any Magi

Jesus got no Christmas stocking
He had nothing to unwrap
The Kings, they turned up later
And that manger was cold and damp

Christmas is a construct
There was no snowy frost
Joseph wasn't draping tinsel
He wasn't rushing up the shops

And Jesus wasn't quiet
He kept them all awake
Like any other baby
He didn't sleep til daybreak

There were no holly berries
No mistletoe or ivy
No pine tree in the corner
At that first nativity

But that sudden choir of angels.
The promised ****** birth
Yes, all that really happened
God did send peace on earth

There's much we have constructed
Even more that we've left out
But Christ remains in Christmas
That's what it's all about

God coming as a child
God reaching down with favour
God with us. Yes: Immanuel
Our promised Christmas Saviour.

It only takes a small cut
  It only takes a soft word
in the right spot
  in the right ear
to sink deep
  to sink in
and scar for good.
  and bring healing.

Not joy in a bottle, but Joy in a manger.
Not tied with a bow, but wrapped a lot tighter.

Not dependant on snow, the turkey or gifts.
But Joy that out-lasts the toys and the myths.

Not under a tree or mistletoe sprig.
But Joy that stays longer and seeps down deep.

Not dependent on feeling or temporary cheer.
But Joy from a Saviour who will always stay near.

He's the Joy who outlasts.  
Joy who gifts meaning.
Joy gifted from Heaven.  
The true Joy of the season.

Before Christmas
there was Christ.

Before the sleigh.
Before the conifers.
Before candles.
Before the paper decor.
Before Christmas became
about lesser gifts.
Before basted turkeys
and Santa myths.
There was Christ.

Before he became the suffix
to the festive.
Before he became less Christ
and more Chris.
Before we suppressed his divinity
and took away his dignity.
Before we replaced him
with a capital merry Me.
There was Christ.

Before Christmas, Christ gifted himself
and took the part that was key
to making a mercy path back
(by way of a much starker tree)
to His eternal city.
Where the crowns aren’t paper.
Where the feast lasts longer.
Where Christ is rightfully King.
That’s where the true party will begin.

Lord of life,
Lord of breeze, of warmth and softest light
Lord of song and answered cries
Lord of long days and sleepless nights

Lord of rest
Lord of this sacred space to reflect
Lord of this gifted stillness
I confess you caught my breath

Lord of promise
Lord who gifted this anointed child
Lord of mercy, of goodness
I weep in the sheen of this just-fed smile

I breathe a quiet celebration (lest they waken)
and marvel at this wondrous sight
I wonder at this crowning moment
and whisper thanks for this new life

I pledge my life to raise my child
to teach the wonders of your kingdom
I surrender now, done and done
and pray they grow in strength and wisdom

I thank you, Lord, for this new life
and wonder again in mid-elation
how Mary contained her cradled delight
while swaddling the first-born of your new creation

Not too rushed
Timed to perfection
Esmee defies
accepted convention

Highly acclaimed
Deeply loved
Esmee embraces
a kiss and hugs

Deeply rooted
Highly adored
Esmee savours
her first long yawn

Her father's reach
Her mother's voice
Esmee combines
warmth and joy

In pride of place
At home at rest
Esmee sleeps
her family blessed

I sympathise
I suffer

I empathise
I feel

I identify
I reflect