Peace On Earth

by Renee Hawkley

Rulers and presidents promise it.
Children wish for it.
Parents dream of it.
Choirs sing of it.
Historians and philosophers study it.
Poets write of it.
Sinners pray for it.
Soldiers die in the name of it.
The sun, the moon and the stars reflect it.
All creation yearns for it.
But only One
Has the Power,
The Majesty
And the Meekness
To offer it
With these words . . .
"Peace I leave with you,
My peace I give unto you;
Not as the world giveth,
Give I unto you.
Let not your heart be troubled,
Neither let it be afraid."
Jesus.
The Babe, the son of Mary.
The Light and the Life of the World.
The Prince of Peace.

First Snow

by Renee Hawkley

Farmers and ski resort owners pray for it.
Children build snowmen in it.
Moms and dads buy tires for it.
Highway crews shovel it.
Merchants spread salt so people won't fall in it.
Commuters arrive late for work in it.
Nobody ignores it.

And me?
I make snow angels in it.

If you don't know how to make a snow angel, It's easy.
One size fits all.
Great fun at every age.

You need a half-inch blanket of new snow, (More or less).
Get bundled up,
(Or not).
Leave as few footprints as possible
Leading to the place the angel will be,
Then lie down on your back in the snow
And do a couple of sets of jumping jacks.
That's it. Get up, and go to the next spot
To make another one!

If you want to see what they look like,
Please stop by to admire the five beautiful snow angels
Circling the big tree in our front yard . . .
Made this morning after the alarm clock went off
By me, me, me, me and me.

I Have Sisters

by Renee Hawkley

I have sisters . . .

When my kids are on the fritz,
When my life is in the pits,
And I want to call it quits,

I have sisters . . .

When I have a broken bone,
When I'm new and not well-known,
When I'm feeling all alone,

I have sisters . . .

When I drive into a post
Or I burn the Sunday roast,
When I need a friend the most,

I have sisters . . .

And . . .

I'm her sister . . .

When she's living in a tent,
And she doesn't have a cent,
When her husband came and went,

I'm her sister . . .

When she's made a big mistake,
And her head proceeds to ache,
When her heart's about to break,

I'm her sister . . .

When she's filled with deep despair,
And she needs my fervent prayer,
When there's no one else to care,

I'm her sister.

A Grandparent's Beattitudes

by Renee Hawkley

Blessed are those who smile, for their wrinkles turn up instead of down.

Blessed are those with gray hair, for they have built-in halos.

Blessed are those who wear glasses, for their eyes twinkle.

Blessed are those who are hard of hearing, for they listen with their hearts.

Blessed are those whose steps are measured, for they are not in a hurry.

Blessed are those whose breath is short, for their patience is long.

Blessed are those who are puzzled with today's music, for they sing the old songs.

Blessed are those with more than one chin, for their chins jiggle when they laugh.

Blessed are those with bent and clumsy fingers, for their touch is gentle.

Blessed are those who watch races rather than run them, for their applause is loudest.

Blessed are those whose brains are slow to remember, for they are fast to forgive.

Blessed are those who are going through their second childhood, for they understand those who are going through their first.

Blessed are the poor in worldly goods, for they have treasures of character to share.

Blessed are those who keep silent about their pain, for they shall not be one.

Blessed are those whose bodies are worn out, for their spirits are worn in.

Rejoice and be exceeding glad, for great is the reward of those who embrace a second chance to be . . . if not a perfect parent . . . at least a "grand" parent.

I'm Not the Best Mom

by Renee Hawkley

I'm not the best mom, that's a fact,
I can't always defend how I act;
However, it's true, my kids say, “I love you,”
In spite of the traits I have lacked.

I’m not the best mom, there’s a list
Of skinned knees that I might have kissed;
Yet sometimes life’s dance gives me one more chance
To comfort the hurts I have missed.

I’m not the best mom, there’s no doubt,
I’ve been known by my darlings to shout;
Still, the longer I live, the more they forgive,
I guess that’s what family’s about.

I’m not the best mom, I admit,
Sometimes I am tempted to quit;
But the name like no other I cling to is “Mother,”
My heart strings are anchored to it.

I’m not the best mom, you can see
There are many far better than me;
Even so, I’m aware that none can compare
With the mother I’m trying to be.

Happy Mother's Day!

Just One Peaceful Day

by Renee Hawkley

Dear Lord, please grant me just one peaceful day;
At dawn, I’ll rise to pray the hours away.
Please banish worldly matters that intrude,
And long past sunset, I’ll give gratitude.

Dear Lord, please bless me with some quiet hours;
Time for me to sense Thy tender powers . . .
Uninterrupted time with Thy good book,
Without the nagging quest of what to cook.

Dear Lord, please take me to a lovely place
Where clutter vanishes without a trace;
Where eagles fly, and mountains are to view,
And not for scaling up or plowing through.

Dear Lord, please reach out with Thy gentle hands,
To stabilize the pulse of life’s demands;
Please remove some chores from my long list,
Thou knowest, most of them will not be missed.

Dear Lord, give me the heart and eyes to see;
The me that is mature spiritually;
Please open up a vision clean and clear
Of what my mission is while I am here.

Child, you have not understood my ways;
Spiritual life is not in tranquil days.
I have a lovely place prepared for you,
But here and now, we’ve heaven’s tasks to do.

Life is not a product to put out;
Life is not a time card, have no doubt;;
Life is not a checklist or a race;
Life is not blue ribbons for first place.

Right now, heav’n surrounds you all the while,
It’s there inside a tiny baby’s smile,
You’ll find it in a whisper on the breeze;
And every time you drop onto your knees.

Heaven comes in snatches, look around;
When you seize the moment it is found.
Little joys and fragments of delight;
Little blessings, little rays of light.

Time is not your enemy, dear friend;
Eternity awaits and has no end;
All along the road, I’m very near;
Just call my name, because, "I’m here! I’m here!"

This Very Christmas

This very Christmas

. . .

I shall be a carpenter who shelters a loved one from a tide of scorn

and toils to ease her path

. . .

I shall be a donkey who carries the heavy burden of a fellow traveler on a far journey

. . .

I shall be an innkeeper who has room in the inn

. . .

I shall be a servant who hears the muffled cries of a frightened young mother

on a silent night and hastens to her aid

. . .

I shall be an angel who joins with a multitude of the heavenly host

praising God and singing "Joy to the World, the Lord is Come!"

. . .

I shall be a humble shepherd whose ears are first to hear good tidings of great joy

. . .

I shall be a mother who tenderly cradles the treasure of eternity in swaddling clothes

. . .

I shall be a rich and noble wise man who follows the bright star

to kneel and worship before the manger of an infant King

. . .

And this very Christmas

. . .

I shall be a child of God who, with hope, wraps the gift of peace on earth

and gently places its fragile contents beneath the Christmas tree of humanity.

This Is My Country!

This is my country . . .

Where women wear blue jeans or neon purple dresses, depending upon their mood,

Where disadvantaged citizens get the best parking spaces,

Where hungry children eat free lunch at school.

This is my country . . .

Where hatred for others is self-defeating,

Where a flag and a disrespectful bumper sticker are attached to the same car,

Where any citizen can dream and plan and work for a better future.

This is my country . . .

Where wives insist that their husbands take out the garbage . . . now,

Where Jews, Christians, Muslims and atheists eat pizza from the same table,

Where complaining about the government is almost always in fashion.

This is my country . . .

Where the only activity shared by everyone is trying to lose weight,

Where leaders are elected by those they serve,

Where there is never dancing in the streets at the loss of innocent lives.

This is my country . . .

Where joining the military is an issue of patriotism, not one of control,

Where families pray for the safe return of their military members,

Where there is no honor in suicide.

This is my country . . .

Where tons of food for the innocent are dropped on countries that harbor our enemies,

Where prayers are as different as the languages they may be spoken in,

Where God has no favorites.

This is my country . . .

Where freedom is holy and war never will be.

A Mother's Creed

I am a mother.

I link humanity’s past to its future.

My moment in history is today.

As a precious pearl in the strand of time,

I add love and light and luster to the timeless

Thread of life that fastens me to generations past.

My task is both common and noble.

I share it with peasants and queens.

I will not belittle my part,

For I have a title role in the play of life.

My words and deeds, though small, will one day

Eclipse those of governments and kingdoms.

My achievement will endure

When even time is a memory,

For I am a mother . . .

I link humanity’s past to its future.

Christmas ... And Everything Didn't Get Done

One blustery twenty-fourth night of December;
Time's candle had snuffed leaving nary an ember.
I lay in my bed knowing all was not right;
Christmas would come at the first break of light.
The cards were not sent and the pies were not ready,
A burden much worse made my heartbeat unsteady.
No gifts had been bought for each daughter and son,
Christmas . . . and everything didn't get done.

My pillow was crumpled and stained with fresh tears;
And I felt alone with my fate and my fears.
I wondered how God would approach such a trial
And wake in the morning still wearing a smile.
Then, amidst my emotion, a single thought stirred,
It fluttered and gently alit like a bird;
God in his infinite, wonderful way
Had left out so much on that first Christmas Day.

He left out the gingerbread and fruitcake making,
In fact, he left out all the holiday baking.
He left out the candy canes, chestnuts and eggnog,
He left out the turkey, the toffee and Yule log.
He left out the good cheer of "Frosty" and snow,
He left out the wreaths and the warm fire's glow.
He left out the ornaments, parties and pageants;
He left out the toys that each young child imagines.

Instead of the pomp and the trimmings and trappings,
Instead of the presents in colorful wrappings,
God offered his gift from an animal's stall,
Wrapped in crude bands and a young mother's shawl.
Just one little baby, so gentle and mild,
A common occurrence, the birth of a child;
Yet this special baby salvation has won,
For God so loved the world that he gave his own Son.

I knew in that moment that all would be well,
Christmas would come with its usual spell;
I could survive without even one elf,
I could give presents right out of myself.
And so, Christmas morning, the family awoke,
We laughed and we played even though we were broke;
With plenty to eat, we were warm and content,
Our happiness seemed, for the most, heaven sent.

And so I suggest if you're ever in doubt
And need to know what Christmas fuss is about,
Reach deep inside you and pull out your best,
Give something better than toys or a vest.
Give something meaningful, something unique,
It may be as small as the words that you speak;
You'll find, if you do, that when Christmas is past,
You have given a gift like God's Son that will last.

The Fantastical Twenty-Fifth Day of December

Long, long ago in a town far away,
Jesus was born on the first Christmas Day.
He slept in a manger in the open air,
His mother was Mary, and she loved him there.

Her baby was special, for he was the one
Who came here as God's only begotten Son.
While shepherds were watching their flocks in the night,
Angels announced Him by holy starlight.

"Hosanna, hosanna," and "Joy to the earth!"
Heavenly messengers proclaimed His birth.
Above in the sky, there appeared a new star,
Wise men came following it from afar.

And that's how it happened, the true Christmas story,
Of Jesus Christ coming to the earth in his glory;
And that is a birthday the world could remember,
The heavenly twenty-fifth day of December.

Then . . .
Somebody noticed the story was small,
And somebody else turned and said, "Is that all?
The birth of one baby, there isn't much to it.
Why, thousands of babies come daily and do it.

This wee celebration is too itty bitty,
What Christmas Day needs is a steering committee!"
Invitations were sent out to gather attention,
Announcing an annual committee convention.

First came the tree growers, lined up in rows
With folks who make ornaments, tinsel and bows.
They brought some mistletoe, wreaths and green holly,
And "Frosty the Snowman" to make children jolly.

Six merry gentlemen came in their sleigh
Jingling jingle bells all of the way.
Next, electricians with bright, colored lights
Introduced timers that work forty nights.

Friendly fruit cakers and gingerbread bakers
Gathered with cookie and candy cane makers.
Sugar plum fairies and sweet chocolate dippers
Mixed with spiced cider and cool eggnog sippers.

Shoemakers, jewelers and quick sweater knitters
Hooked up with merchants and cool ski outfitters.
Then came dear Santa with sixty-eight elves,
Toy makers came and began stocking shelves.

Next came musicians with bell choirs and bands,
Singing of chestnuts from their music stands.
Pianists brought in a partridge and pear tree,
Twelve drummers drumming joined in for a small fee.

Animal trainers brought Rudolph and Prancer,
The Nutcracker brought his most trim ballet dancer.
Pageant performers and suave movie stars
Brought contracts and fat scripts and their VCR's.

I Was Just Wondering

If Mary Celebrated Christmas in the 21st Century . . .

• Would her December calendar look like a color-coded advertisement for Franklin/Covey day planners?



• Would she sew a reindeer costume for her first grader?



• Would she write an annual Christmas letter?



• Would she shop for presents for all her relatives and friends, the wise men, shepherds, herald angels, the angel of the Lord, and just to be on the safe side, the innkeeper and King Herod?



• Would she avoid the postal rush by mailing her packages by Thanksgiving?



• Would she decorate her home to look like a Christmas fairyland?



• Would she host a holiday party for all the coworkers in Joseph's carpentry shop?



• Would she listen to Christmas albums by The Carpenters, Kenny G and Barbara Streisand?



• Would she read "The Grinch That Stole Christmas" to her preschoolers and go see the movie?



• Would she create gingerbread houses and distribute them to the neighbors?



• Would the family Christmas tree be real Scotch pine or artificial?



• Would she remind Joseph to hang the Christmas tree lights?



• Would she bake sugar cookies from dough in a tube or make them from scratch?



• Would she contribute a cross-stitch project to her community's Christmas craft fair?



• Would she get tickets for "The Nutcracker Ballet?"



• Would she watch videos of "Miracle on 34th Street," "It's A Wonderful Life" and "Home Alone?"



• Would she help her children put out milk and cookies for Santa Claus?



• Would she serve ham or turkey for Christmas dinner?



• With all the "goodwill toward men" squeezed onto her holiday To-Do List, would she leave space to ponder the birth of her Firstborn Son?

I Was Just Wondering #2

If Mary had her baby in the 21st Century . . .

• Would she respond to the angel of the Lord with, "Me, a virgin? Are you kidding?"



• Would she ask the angel of the Lord to come back when her career was established?



• Would she use a pregnancy test to find out for sure?



• Would her doctor say that her baby would be at risk because she was so young?



• Would she and Joseph detect an unusual aura on the baby's ultra-sound?



• Would she use MasterCard to finance the crib and car seat?



• Would she call ahead to make reservations in Bethlehem?



• Would she crave peppermint candy cane ice cream?



• Would she negotiate with her boss for maternity leave?



• Would she research her options for quality daycare?



• Would she call her mom and dad when she went into labor and hear the voice on the answering machine say, "Your call is very important to us?"



• Would she tell Joseph to forget the donkey idea and call 911?



• Would she shield her eyes from the brightness of the new star as she gazed into the sky in disbelief?



• Would she use Pampers and a warm, zippered bunting instead of swaddling clothes?



• Would she ask the herald angels to skip the personal visit and send their CD instead?



• Would she insist that a dirty manger used to feed cattle was no place for her baby?



• Would she ask the shepherds to show some identification?



• Would she thank the wise men for the gold and send Joseph to the mall to exchange the frankincense and myrrh?



• With all the visitors and the excitement of the birth of her Firstborn Son, would there be a scrap of time for "peace on earth?"