Christmas Morning

Five o’clock and the sun still sleeps, I lay in my bed beneath pillows heaped.

Awakened suddenly from my slumber, I pulled blankets up an’ slid further under.

Time has changed since my childhood years, when never a Christmas morn I’d fear.

As I tried to return back to my dreams, the bedroom door did creak it seemed.

And though I attempt to ignore, icy fingers woke up my core.

I peeked out through my blanket den, seeing nothing of my little friend.

I decided that I would wake and stand, but too slow was I with my plan.

I surely could not do this on my own, and the knees that crushed me made me groan.

It took a minute to catch my breath, and I sigh relief at avoided death.

My five-year-old sat upon my chest, his excitement was about to crest.

“Santa came” he blurted out, and from downstairs I heard more shouts.

“Wake up mom and wake up dad!” the girls knew not the boy already had.

“Go back to bed” their mom replied, “just one more hour” I heard her cry.

I knew right away this would not fly, they’d seen too much to be denied.

Before we could sit up in our beds, the boy took off out the door he fled.

“They’re coming” he screamed as he hit the stairs.  Then tripped and flew right through the air.

His normal cry we did not hear, But “I’m ok” is what hit my ear.

I glanced at my wife, she in mid stretch, “you get the baby, and the camera I’ll fetch.”

I gathered my balance and stood to my feet, then a dizzy spell sent me to my seat.

I tried again and this time it worked, I walked to the room where the baby lurked.

She cooed and she kicked when I opened her door, I had trouble lifting her with my ribs still sore.

We headed downstairs igniting commotion. The craze was beginning was my notion.

Three stockings were emptied all over the room.  Three children hovered and chaos loomed.

“Now leave the room” my wife did cry, “then come back in and look surprised!”

She held the camera to the ready, and held it in both hands to steady.

The kids reentered with cheesy smiles, then screamed and dove upon their piles.

Lifesavers, batteries and dental floss, Santa had not spared any cost.

Before long we caught up in the buzz, joining the joy as every parent does.

So much to see and do for sure, the smiling faces my hurt was cured.

But as we watched all the glee, the baby ate something we didn’t see.

She gagged at first and then turned blue. I jumped up quick and to her flew.

By her ankles I flipped her upside down, she squirmed and kicked but made no sound.

One pat on the back and out it came, one unshelled peanut was to blame.

Like nothing happened the baby fled, to her new dolly dressed in red.

“Let’s get organized” my wife announced, so onto the couch I did bounce.

Youngest to oldest we made our rounds, each opening a gift from our mounds.

Movies, games, cars and dolls, Clothes and shoes, jewelry and balls.

But as I watched all their jubilee, I felt a twinge at what dawned on me.

Despite the commotion and my aching chest, my heart cried out from behind my breast.

Where is Christmas? My soul did cry.  Had we forgotten who and why?

Who blessed us with these wonderful things, who is the reason for the songs we sing?

Where is the Savior this early morn? For Christmas is because He was born.

His life was lived to show the way.  His life was given and the price was paid.

Christmas is for everyone, to remember God’s own begotten son.

Joy have we with Santa Clause, but let us always take a pause.

To think of life without the gift, the Savior gave so that we may live. 

-Horace Hallenberger 2004
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