‘Twas the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring—
Except for a mouse.
She had paper for wrapping
And presents knee-deep;
With so much to do
There was no time to sleep!

And after the presents,
There’d be stockings to stuff;
And then as though this
Wasn’t nearly enough,
To her numb little fingers
And her eyes blurred and tired,
She just saw the words,
“Some assembly required.”

Yet, in spite of her frantic
And frenzied state,
Time wouldn’t stop
And nor would it wait.
For the clock on the mantel
Soon chimed it was one,
With a gasp the mouse realized
She was still far from done.

For where had she put
Tommy’s present again?
Oh, shoot! There aren’t batteries,
She just couldn’t win!
She’d forgotten the cookies
For Santa Clause too;
And why in the world
Was she wrapping the glue?!

Then glancing about
At this holiday mess—
Her blood pressure rising
With all of the stress,
She exclaimed to the tree
Where the tinsel was strung,
“Whoever started this all
Why, they ought to be hung!”

     . . .

In the silence that followed,
Both moody and dour,
The mouse sat there frowning
Her face in a glower.
When what happened next
Gave her such a great start,
She let out a cry
And clutched at her heart!

“He was,” said a voice,
Deep and clear as could be.
It came from the angel
On top of the tree.
And he burned with a glow
That was pure and was true,
And the gaze of his eyes
Seemed to pierce the mouse through.

“I was there,” he declared,
“On that first Christmas day.
I sang anthems to shepherds
Of a babe in the hay.”
And his eyes that were soft
Recollecting the scene,
Sudd’nly filled full of tears
That began to careen.

“I was there, once again,
On the day that He died,
The Unblemished Price
For sin and for pride.
Hung on a cross
If man will but see—
Providing salvation
For you and for me.”

And here paused the angel
On the bow high above,
Overcome with emotion
At the mercy and love.
Then wiping his eyes
And speaking again,
He concluded with reverence
That shown deep within.

“See, that, my dear mouse,
Is the real hope and reason
For the joy and the light
Of this whole Christmas season.
So please,” he implored,
In a whisper so small,
“Don’t push Christ out of Christmas—
He’s the heart of it all.”

     . . .

‘Twas the predawn of Christmas,
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring—
Not even the mouse.
For she sat calm and quiet
In the still of the morn,
Contemplating the gift
That to mankind was born.

Then, standing at last
And heading to bed,
She smiled at the angel
With a bob of her head;
And heard him proclaim
As she turned out the light,
“Merry Christmas old world;
And to all, a good night!”

---

Who remembers the old vinyl record players?  I don’t mean the new “old” ones, you know, the retro ones that are supposed to look like those of yesteryear.  I’m talking the old old ones, the originals, the OG’s.  The ones that you used if you wanted to listen to audio before cassette tapes, Walkmans, CD’s, Ipods, or limitless streaming was ever invented.  I never had one, but my grandparents did.  It was an ancient dinosaur before I graced the scene but it was all they had at the time.  When some of my siblings and I would stay at their home for a few days, they had a couple of “books on record” we would listen to and follow along in the accompanying picture book.  The one we listened to most often had a scratch part way through.  It would spin round and round playing the same few words over and over until we could convince one of the “older” people—Uncle Steven who was still in high school at the time or a grandparent—to come move the little reading arm off the scratch mark and get us on with the story.

Another of the books was “The Night Before Christmas”.  First published anonymously in 1823, this is one of the most widely recognized poems on Christmas.  The version Grandma and Grandpa had was set to colorful and whimsical pictures as the poem unfolded.  Now that I think about it, I’m not sure if the book went with a record or if it was a stand-alone item we read with a record.  I was quite young and that was a long time ago.  But, regardless, I loved the book nonetheless; and I doubt a Christmas has gone by that I have not thought of the familiar and endearing words, “‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house . . . .”

I had these words going though my head this year too, along with a story of a mother laden down with bags from Christmas shopping feeling frazzled and worn out.  Crowding into an elevator with a bunch of other holiday shoppers, she protested with “Whoever started this mess ought to be shot!”  And then there’s the story of another mother who, to her horror, realized Christmas morning that she had forgotten to get a gift for one of her many little children.  As hard as that is to believe, I believe it.  I come from a large family and can attest that crazy stuff happens in chaos! 

All of this is simply to say that I acknowledge this season can be stressful—and I’m not even a mother!  There are certain expectations, never-ending sales pitches, relentless commercialization, family and community traditions, parties and planning, and decorations and stories and songs and food.  All these things make the holidays unique and special, and, yet, universal too.  Oh, and not to mention, these festivities also coincide with cold and flu season where I reside; which just adds another variable of stress into the mix.  I know, I’m currently fighting a head cold and have to keep reaching for a tissue. 

These thoughts swirling around in my mind formed the inspiration for this poem.  This season sometimes seems to have a life of its own.  If we are not careful, we can get tripped up in trappings and forget fundamentals.  Maybe this season our slogan should be ‘simplify’.  Perhaps we should be more purposeful in what we chose to do and not to do.  In my family we have mostly eliminated presents.  We have cut back on some of the traditions we did in my youth that produced more stress than joy.  I no longer believe in Santa or reindeer or the North Pole.  I don’t wake up multiple times in the middle of Christmas Eve to check the clock and see if it is time to get up.  Has Christmas lost some of the magic?  Yes.  But perhaps removing the magic is necessary to make way for the majestic.

For here is the majesty of Christmas: “God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3:16).  Here are the “good tidings of great joy” of Christmas: unto us was born “ in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:10-11).  Here is the glory of Christmas: His name is called “Wonderful, Counsellor, The Mighty God, The Everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace” (Isaiah 9:6).

That is the heart of Christmas.  That is the reason for the season.  That is the purpose of all the pageantry.  And if the whole wide world could receive it and believe it, it truly would be a “Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.”

Written: December 18, 2025