After Christmas Musings, Part 2

It was the day after Christmas and although our holiday had been lively and joyous, all the shopping, cooking, cleaning, wrapping, decorating, planning, and merrymaking had finally caught up with me.

Now I can sit back and relax”, I thought as I slouched back into my recliner.

But after reading “The Work of Christmas” by Howard Thurman, it dawned on me that the real work of Christmas was only beginning…


The Work of Christmas
~ by Howard Thurman

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:

to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.


Happy New Year in the Lord! May we NOT grow weary of doing good in 2019, for in due season we will reap if we do not give up!

“…you will raise up the foundations of many generations; and you will be called, the Repairer of the breach’, the restorer of paths to dwell in.” ~ Isaiah 58:12

After Christmas Musings, Part 1


‘Twas the Month After Christmas
~ Author Unknown

‘Twas the month after Christmas,
and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I’d nibbled, the eggnog I’d taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.

When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber),
I’d remember the marvelous meals I’d prepared:
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I’d never said, “No, thank you, please.”

As I dressed myself in my husband’s old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt—
I said to myself, as I only can,
“You can’t spend a winter disguised as a man!”

So—away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip.
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
‘Til all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won’t have a cookie—not even a lick.
I’ll want only to chew on a long celery stick.

I won’t have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie;
I’ll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I’m hungry, I’m lonesome, and life is a bore—
But isn’t that what January is for?

Unable to giggle, no longer a riot,
Happy New Year to all, and to all a good diet!