EACH CHRISTMASTIME

I have a list of folks I know
All written in a book
And every year at Christmas time
I go and take a look,
And that is when I realise
That these names are a part,
Not of the book they're written in,
But of my very own heart.
For each name stands for someone
Whose path touched mine and then
Left such a print of friendship
That I want to touch again.
And while it sounds fantastic
For me to make this claim,
I really feel I am composed,
Of each remembered name.
So never think my Christmas cards
Are just a mere routine,
Of names upon a Christmas list
Forgotten in between.
For when I send a Christmas card
That is addressed to you,
It's because you're on the list
Of folks that I'm indebted to.
And every year when Christmas comes
I realise anew,
The biggest gift life can give
Is meeting folks like you.
And may the Spirit of Christmas
That forever and ever endures,
Leave its richest blessings
In the hearts of you and yours.

Helen Steiner Rice 1949

'To get a place in heaven,
Do I have to take a test?
To see if I can sing the hymns
And keep time with the rest?

I never made it to the choir,
I couldn't sing in tune.
Instead I tried to mime the words –
They spotted this quite soon!

Does Peter, at the pearly gates,
When counting good and sin
Ask simply, "Can you play the harp?
And if you can, you're in!"

The peacock with its gorgeous tail,
Its harsh and jarring cry;
The braying ass, the croaking frog,
Who made them all, but I?

God smiled, "My child, there's something
You really ought to know:
I made the tuneful nightingale,
I also made the crow.

All animals – all humans too
Have unique worth for me.
Don't worry if you cannot sing:
Come in and brew the tea!"

                                                                                 Anon