‘Twas the month before Clutter-mas, and all through the house
Not a creature could find anything, barely even their spouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with greed,
hoping for things that they didn't even need.
The children were nestled with lumps ‘round their beds,
While visions of Mortal Kombat danced through their heads.
Mamma had her list made for quite a long time,
Clothing, perfume, and purses - all the latest designs.
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed but tripped on a ladder.
How did that get there? Oops, I've forgotten!
Out of mind now that I've stepped on somethin' rotten!
I made my way through the debris on the floor,
And suddenly thought of what I needed some more . . .
I caught a glimpse of the new SLX30,
as my neighbour drove passed - it shure was purdy.
When much to my displeasure, who should appear,
but a little boy and his dog going through the garbage out rear.
He lifted the lid and it fell from his hand,
As he shouted with glee at what he thought was so grand . . .
"Look! Chicken and veggies! Plus hardly used sneakers!
And a portable stereo with tiny little speakers!
From the top of the pile, to the bottom of the can
Let's stash this away! Pack it away!" They took it and ran!
They went down the alley and got quite a-ways,
When suddenly they stopped and seemed in a daze.
The boy looked down at all the things in his sack,
Guilt crossed his face; then he turned to bring it all back.
And then, like a tickle, a thought entered my head,
like a light breaking forth from a place that was dead.
It started out dimly, and got bright in a minute,
it grew and it grew, until my heart was committed.
I looked - he was dressed in rags from his head to his foot,
and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
An ill-fitted jacket he had flung on his back,
and I knew he was homeless, carrying that pack.
But his eyes, how they twinkled when he saw those treasures,
in our trash heap of all places - oh what measures!
I realized, then, that he doesn't get many meals,
my head fell, unable to imagine how that must feel.
Shame coursed through my veins as I thought of our stuff,
I couldn't take it anymore, so I shouted, "Enough!".
We have and we have, and then want even more,
we have run out of places to keep it and store.
He was skinny and alone, with no place to stay,
a tear spilled from my eye as I was convicted that day;
We weren't any happier because of these things,
It is what we can . . . give . . . that happiness brings.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And re-filled the trash can, before he turned with a jerk.
But I was down the stairs quickly and flew out of the door,
I desperately shouted, "Wait! We have so much more!"
"We have clothes and food and things that we waste,
Please come in from the cold, let us make haste."
Instead he gently urged, then vanished from sight,
"Give a happy Christmas to all, and to all a good life."
An original adaption by Deena Cottingham
Based on, "'Twas the night before Christmas" by Clement C. Moore
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Clutter and "stuff" (especially around the holidays) is an on-going battle in our household. We've evolved and made changes to how we choose to celebrate, reward and purchase throughout the years--admittedly, on a rather small scale. I lay awake the other night thinking about this issue and got inspired to write this.
We received the World Vision catalog in the mail, and my kids decided that we should all chip in for several gifts this holiday season (Canada, US & international). There are many other people and organizations, even in our own backyards, that are also worthy of being remembered.
Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends.
Deena Cottingham
GreenApple Staging & Images
Serving Calgary and Okotoks, Alberta
©GreenApple Staging & Images, 2010
All information is copyrighted and may not be used, borrowed or copied without written permission.
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Deena WOW! This made my cry. I am so blessed and I will share those blessing with many this holiday season.