It's Nothing But Love

Life was quite different if only but a year ago,

Stockings hung upon the mantle, Yule Log all aglow,

Tree festooned with lights and presents all around,

Carolers outside singing their voices to God resound.

Yes but just a year ago all seemed as it should,

Friends and family gathered round all seemed well and good,

The Christmas Spirit filled our hearts and filled the air,

Hope and Joy is all we felt without a single care.

Huddled close together my family did pray and wait,

Under the bridge in a snow covered makeshift crate,

A far cry from the luxury and opulence we once knew,

Far from the friends and family we once held true.

Upon a lonely corner I did stand, hand held out in need,

Just a dime or quarter to the bustling crowd I did plead,

If not for me... for my family will you share,

Please won’t you stop to offer just a simple prayer?

Walking “home” on that cold and dreary Christmas Eve,

My heart in anguish, and for my family I did grieve,

For I had nothing to give them no gifts did I bear,

Except a few pieces of candy and a half eaten pear.

As I arrived my hope was renewed and from me were lifted all of my fears

I fell to my knees, my heart filled with joy my eyes filled with tears,

For my dear family in my absence kept busy all that day,

To create for us the most spectacular Christmas display.

Dirty socks upon that makeshift crate were hung,

Upon a small bush strands of newsprint strung,

A simple cross with sticks the children made,

And for a manger a broken doll in a box was laid.

From within carried on voices oh so sweet Silent Night,

As candles provided them all a bit of warmth and light,

And there upon the cold dirt floor the Good Book lay,

Tattered pages opened to the story of that Holy day.

The day when God came down and in a lowly manger lay,

And among the poor and discarded chose to walk & pray,

Nowhere to lay His weary head in His short life

He came to save and upon Himself take all our strife.

A night filled with sadness turned to a day filled with cheer,

Though we had no possessions I felt much richer this year,

For the true meaning of Christmas was sent from above,

To put it quite simply....It’s nothing but Love.

Kyle Boud-Robertson

12/25/10

A Child Is Born

This night, in a dark alley, a child is born.

Could this be Him, the one about men of old have sworn?

Wrapped in newsprint, within a cardboard box He lies,

With no one to tend Him as all alone He cries.

The streets festooned with lights of red and green,

As holiday shoppers bustle by, the child unseen.

Angels gather round the babe their watch to keep,

As He slowly drifts into a wakeless sleep.

In a south side crack house, this night, a child is born.

Could this be He, the one about men of old have sworn?

Rolled in a rug, tucked gently beneath the pee stained bed,

On the floor His mother lets out a cry of fear and dread.

Faint hymns of distant carolers carry on the wind,

A Salvation Army bell rings just around the bend.

Unknown to all, the baby gasps for His last breath,

While a young mother contemplates her own death.

In a church this very night a special Mass is said;

To honor a child, which in a manger laid His head.

While in a dumpster yet another infant cries,

Bruised and broken yet another infant dies.

Each Child which in the lowliest circumstance is born,

Is He, the very one about which men of old have sworn.

For have you not heard what is done to the least of thee,

Is also none other than that which is done to He.

So as we remember the child in the manger so dear,

Let us not forget the young ones who cower in fear;

And as we celebrate the birth of God's only Son,

Let us make a vow to help all of the forgotten ones.

Written by: Kyle Boyd-Robertson 12/19/09

Dedicated to: Diana Joy Albertsen & her tireless efforts to help the "Forgotten Ones"

I'm Dreaming of a South Texas Christmas

Alone, in a small cabin far from home, I watched as the snow began to fall.  Being the first time I had actually seen snow, other than on television, I stared out the window and carefully studied each of the flakes as they slowly drifted downward, like little angels from the heavens, and gently found their new home on branches of fir trees and the ground below. It wasn’t long before that little flurry of “angels” sent out for reinforcements and they came with a vengeance, riding on the back of the north wind. Nothing was spared as they went about their apparent duty of transforming the landscape from a forest full of diverse colors and shapes to a single blanket of white.  Before nightfall the single blanket morphed into a three foot thick multi layered quilt concealing beneath all signs of summer and fall. 

 It was the fourth Sunday of the Advent Season and I couldn’t help but think how pleased the folks at the little congregational church in the nearby village must be with themselves.  After all they had been praying for a White Christmas, as they did every year, starting even before the leaves of Fall had finished their spectacular display of grandeur. I however had my thoughts far from that winter wonderland. As others were preparing for winter festivities and playing in the new fallen snow, I settled into my rocking chair next to the warmth of a newly stoked fire, sipped on a cup of freshly brewed hot tea, not iced as I am accustomed to, and dreamt of Christmas back in South Texas.

From Galveston to Corpus and all down the coast,

Lights from the bows to the sterns on all of the boats;

On the beaches of Padre children lay down and fan

With their arms and their legs to create angels of sand.

 From Goliad to Cuero, Gonzales and Cruz Calle,

On down to the Valley of the great Rio Grande;

Old Courthouses were lit in little town squares, 

As the merchants were busy selling their wares.

In Shiner and Schroeder in Yoakum and Runge,

Way down in Harlingen, Laredo and Palm Valley;

Weihnachten and Navidad  are blended together,

Into one celebration the bigger the better.

O Tannenbaum, las Posadas, Cowboy Christmas,

Are all sung under one roof here in South Texas;

Where the cultures combine in a joyous delight,

To Celebrate together that most Holy of nights.

Written by: Kyle Boyd-Robertson