The Saturday Before Christmas

My mother was the poet in our family and the lover of all things Christmas.

She's been gone now for twenty nine years, dying when she was fifty one.

I was thirty three.

Two years ago as I was getting ready for my family to join me for Christmas,

 I felt her spirit very close to mine and was inspired to write a poem.

 (Something I've never done before and will probably never do again)

I hope she knows that when her five children, fourteen grandchildren,

and twenty-eight great-grandchildren celebrate Christmas this year,

she'll be remembered with great love.  

Twas the Saturday before Christmas and all through my heart
was happiness and song for the fun would soon start.
Coming to my house on this wonderful day
will be my favorite people, I ’d like them forever to stay.

 The door bell will ring, and first to come
will be lovely Lorena and our favorite Grandpappy.
She'll bring the noodles, he’ll bring a joke,
  the kids big and small, will all be happy.

Next through the door, my brothers and their ladies
Their babies all grown, will bring more little babies.

My sister can't come, to Florida she's gone, 

But the bond that connects us remains so strong.

And last but not least, the ones I love most,
my three girls and their hubbies, their babies will help host.  
Beside Momma, my son's missing this December,
In heaven they sing, but we'll always remember.

 Grandpa will read the story of Jesus

 who came one starry night.
Yes, it’s true, I’ll most likely cry,

to see the family circle is the very best sight.

  I should be cleaning my house, right about now,

but if it's dirty or clean, my family won’t care.
For what they want most is a time and a place,

God's love to share.