THE
LORD'S POET
CHRISTMAS MEMORIES: 
SHARE MINE-------------FIND YOURS 
THE
TRAIN
I
guess it was Christmas of 1957 when I received the train set. My
main (and probably only) gift that year was a huge train set. There were
what seemed like miles of track on the 4' X 8' table. The layout consisted
of two levels and many twists and turns. There was a working station, a
work crew car (my favorite) that reversed direction when it came to the
end of the line. There were switches and controls to delight any aficionado.
But... I was a mere girl of only seven. The men (my loving uncles) did
not think a girl of seven (or any age for that matter) could properly handle
all those controls. They took over the set, taking turns among themselves
but totally ignoring the owner of the railway! I crawled under the layout
table and cried. Then I began to think about how I could regain control
of the train set. I hit upon the perfect solution and promptly set about
enacting it. I came out of my cave and stood patiently at one corner of
the table. Then I did a very brave (or very stupid) thing. As the train
travelled down the hill towards me, I reached out and snatched the locomotive
off the track just as it rounded the bend. I walked out of the room thinking
that if I could not play with MY toys, no one would!
I
must have made my point because not only did I not get punished for the
action, my uncles thereafter asked permission to man the controls. And
it became a household rule that no one could operate the train without
having cleared it with me.
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SNOW
DIAMONDS
As
I look back to other years
I
see one evening very clear:
Christmas
Eve it must have been
And
it had snowed once again.
Walking
home from church that night
My
eyes beheld an awesome sight.
For
in the bright though pale moonlight
The
soft newfallen Christmas snow
Sparkled
like diamonds all aglow.
I
continued to walk, now very slow
Looking
around, both high and low
So
that I could this mem'ry store
Away
inside to recall once more
And
see again a picture clear
As
I remember other years.
Kathi Phillips
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THE
STOCKING
It
was my son's fifth Christmas, so the year was 1978. I had knit a small
stocking for the church's Christmas Bazaar. Using the same pattern but
thicker yarn and larger needles, I made one for my son. I followed the
directions to the letter and wound up with a lovely stocking that was three
and a half feet long and nearly as big as my son.
We
took this monumental stocking to my mother's that year. My nephew saw it
and was struck by how much booty could fit in such a monstrous stocking.
He requested that one be made for him for the following year. This was
promised. Though the stocking was made and mailed to him from New Hampshire,
I don't think he ever realized his dream of finding it full to overflowing
on Christmas morning!
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MY
FIRST GIFT
I
can still see it: this little head barely reaching the top of the
check-out counter. Then I could look no more. You see, that unseen head
belonged to my son, age four and a half. He had taken his own money (after
a quick lesson in how to read the price tag) and gone in search of the
perfect gift for Mommy. He knew exactly what he wanted and where it was
in the store. So unescorted ("I'm a big boy, Mommy!") he went to get it.
I was under orders not to peek, so when he returned to the check-out with
his hands behind his back, I turned away. He paid for it then joined my
friend and I to go home. With a satisfied grin, he handed me the bag and
said, "Wrap it for me, Mommy." On the drive home I wondered how I would
accomplish this without knowing what it was. At home, after only one question
("Is it breakable?" "Of course not!") I made a bag out of wrapping paper,
dropped his bag into it and had him tape it shut.
His
gift? A skein of yarn that I knit into a very special hat for Mommy!
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