Crafter's Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas

And all through the house

Not a present was finished

Not even my blouse.

The stockings were hung

By the fire with care

Hoping that someday

All the names would be there.

  

And even more hopeful,

That on Christmas morn

Some presents would fill them

Or some ornaments adorn.

The children were sleeping

Quiet unaware

That while they lay dreaming

Mama was in despair.

For you see, good old Mama

(a.k.a. Old Saint Nick)

Was locked in her sewing room…

And herself she could kick

Because piles of presents

Planned with such care

For a fun, homemade Christmas

Lay everywhere.

A scarf to be knitted

Is not long enough

And some scrappy stuffed animals

Still need to be stuffed.

A lap quilt for Grandma

Is still only a top

And that sweater for Daddy

Should have come from a shop.

And a present so lovely

On mom’s brand-new machine

(That she can’t quite use yet)

Is still only a dream.

“I’m keeping it simple,”

Mom had announced,

With a vow that this Christmas

The stress she’d renounce.

“But that’s how Christmas

Should be,” Mama sighed.

“I want everyone to have

A hand-made surprise.”

Daylight’s in four hours.

It can’t all get done!

Good thing that my presents

Aren’t the only ones.

But amid all the panic

And last minute sewing

I can take a deep breath because

There’s one thing I’m knowing:

Even though my gift list’s

Ambitious without reason

I remember that presents

Aren’t the point of this season.

For this day that is dawning,

This new Christmas morn,

Is to celebrate Jesus

The Messiah is born.