A New Wrinkle

HO HO HO!

In actual point of fact, it must be said that it is not technically Christmas Eve as of yet. (And if that egregious usage no-no doesn't rouse the Grammar Police right out of their visions of sugar-plums, I suppose nothing will, although I'm sure it will get the attention of linguistic sticklers everywhere, and their name is legion, believe me.) However, it is so close to the big day now that if you blink, you might miss the sleighbells in the snow, the candy canes and silver lanes aglow, with boughs of holly and jingle all the way. I'd also caution against chestnuts roasting on an open fire, at least for the next few days, or you could find yourself with a seriously singed Santa on your hands, not to mention, all of his presents burnt to a crisp and up in smoke. That would be a sure way to land yourself on the Naughty List, not only next year, but perhaps permanently, and in North Pole years, permanently can be a very long time indeed. (You can just go right ahead and ask the dinosaurs if you don't believe me, although what they ever did to tick Santa off, they took to the tar pits with them, but it must have been pretty darned naughty.) I figure since it's this close anyway, and I certainly want to make sure I stay on the right side of the jolly old elf himself, my plan is to be not only as nice as possible, but nicer than nice, all the way up to being the nicest of the nice. In fact, I might just go all out and move to Nice, France while I'm at it, so when the Nice List comes out, my name will be right up at the top and no mistake. Speaking of mistakes, here's a little bit of seasonal humor in honor of the upcoming holiday, which certainly adds a whole new "wrinkle" to the old, old story! Please enjoy responsibly, with prose on earth and good grammar to all.

Nicer Nice the Nicest, of Nice

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THE CHRISTMAS PAGEANT

My husband and I had been happily Married (most of the time)For five yearsBut hadn't been blessed with a baby.

I decided to do some seriousPraying and promised GodThat if he would give us a child,I would be a perfect mother, Love it with all my heartAnd raise it with His wordAs my guide.

God answered my prayersAnd blessed us with a son.

The next year God blessed usWith another son.

The following year,He blessed us with Yet another son.

The year after that weWere blessed with a daughter.

My husband thought we'dBeen blessed right into poverty.We now had four children,And the oldest was onlyFour years old.

I learned never to ask GodFor anything unless I meant it.As a minister once told me,'If you pray for rain,Make sure you carry an umbrella.'

I began reading a few versesOf the Bible to the children Each day as they lay in their cribs.

I was off to a good start.God had entrusted meWith four children andI didn't want to disappoint Him.

I tried to be patient the dayThe children smashed Two dozen eggs onThe kitchen floor searchingFor baby chicks.

I tried to be understanding...

When they started a hotel forHomeless frogs in the spare bedroom, although it took me

Nearly two hoursTo catch all twenty-three frogs .

When my daughter pouredKetchup all over herself and Rolled up in a blanket to seeHow it felt to be a hot dog, I tried to see the humorRather than the mess.

In spite of changing overTwenty-five thousand diapers,Never eating a hot meal And never sleeping for moreThan thirty minutes at a time,I still thank God daily for my children.

While I couldn't keep my promiseTo be a perfect mother -I didn't even come close...I did keep my promiseTo raise them in the Word of God.

I knew I was missing the markJust a little when I told My daughter we were goingTo church to worship God,And she wanted to bringA bar of soap along to'wash up' Jesus, too.

Something was lostIn the translation whenI explained thatGod gave us everlasting life,And my son thought it wasGenerous of God to giveUs his 'last wife.'

My proudest moment cameDuring the children'sChristmas pageant.

My daughter was playing Mary, Two of my sons were shepherdsAnd my youngest son was a wise man.This was their moment to shine.

My five-year-old shepherdHad practiced his line,'We found the babe wrappedIn swaddling clothes.'

But he was nervous and said,'The baby was wrappedIn wrinkled clothes.'

My four-year-old 'Mary' said,'That's not 'wrinkled clothes,' silly.

That's dirty, rotten clothes.'

A wrestling match broke outBetween Mary and the shepherdAnd was stopped by an angel,Who bent her halo and lost Her left wing.

I slouched a little lowerIn my seat when MaryDropped the doll representingBaby Jesus, and it bouncedDown the aisle crying, 'Mama-mama.'

Mary grabbed the doll,Wrapped it back upAnd held it tightly asThe wise men arrived.

My other son stepped forwardWearing a bathrobe And a paper crown,Knelt at the manger And announced,'We are the three wise men,And we are bringing giftsOf gold, Common sense And fur.'

The congregationDissolved into laughter,And the pageantGot a standing ovation.

'I've never enjoyed a Christmas Program as much as this one,'Laughed the pastor, Wiping tears from his eyes.

'For the rest of my life,I'll never hear theChristmas story withoutThinking of Gold, Common sense And fur.'

'My children are my pride And my joy and my greatestBlessing,' I said as I dugThrough my purse for an aspirin.