Beyond a Snowy – For Hamish

Adrian Gibb

 

Down a misty lane, and beyond a snowy path
Stands a thatched cottage with a woman at the hearth.
Her name is Sister Mary, for she chose to be a nun
And she sits by a roaring fire with a cat upon her tum.

I sat in a comfy chair, under the cards arrived by mail
Anxious for a story and a wondrous Christmas tale.
“When I was young girl…” she began to softly relate
“A little older than you, I guess maybe about eight…”

I lived in a large orphanage and had a very sad life
As all the girls around me loved nothing more than strife!
We lived in small grey rooms, but maintained a big grey home
From the rat infested cellar to the large rooftop dome

All I had to look forward to throughout the dreary year
Was the day that Santa came and handed out good cheer
You can surely imagine then how distraught a girl could get
When told by my two friends that I was actually being wet!

‘There is no Santa silly!’ they said with a guffaw
And left me all alone, sad and crying and on the floor
I confess I sat in misery before I stood again
With a wonderful idea that would confound my so-called friends!

I would stay up all Christmas Eve, with a camera in my fingers
And take a picture of Santa, and prove that he still lingers.
A window way up high, was where I hatched my plan
With a blanket round my shoulders, and my camera in my hand.

I lasted for some hours though I shivered in my shoes
Until despite my efforts I succumbed to sleepy snooze.
Until I awoke with a fright, for a noise had made me start
And my breathing became quicker with the beating of my heart.

For through the snowy evening, to the left of the grey dome
Stood a man we know as Santa but he wasn’t there alone.
I slowly inched towards him and crawled out on the roof
And had to stop from screaming, as I bumped a Reindeer’s hoof.

But still I kept on crawling, though I couldn’t feel my knees
And then, as I got closer, I had to go and sneeze!
The reaction to my action was swift and fast and fair
Santa turned to face me and his friend flew into the air!

 

I must have shown my feelings, of awe and sheer delight
For the creature smiled brightly, and then flew into the night.
‘And what is this?’ Santa boomed with his hands on his red hips
But though I tried, with all my might, I couldn’t move my lips.

‘What did you hear?’ he asked, in a voice all soft with dread
But shocked and silent and full of fear I simply just shook my head.
With a small sigh and a grimace, and a poorly disguised moan
He picked me up and placed me on top of the rooftop dome.

He looked at me for a moment, as if weighing the cons and pros
And then, having decided, he unburdened all his woes.
‘That creature was an angel’ he said in a warm sweet voice
‘And I wish I hadn’t met him, though I doubt I had a choice’

‘Christmas is in danger, though that alone would be fine
The reason I am so sad, is that something else is on the line’
And then he told me a story that many just don’t believe
But it’s true, I can assure you, for I saw it on that Eve.

You see what many don’t know, so few on this bright earth
Is that the faith that we all share helps a star shine on a birth
The star that showed the shepherds and the wise men from the East
Where to find a baby Jesus, asleep and in his peace.

The brightness of that star, which allowed those men to find
Is fuelled by all our faith from back then and all through time.
‘So why are you so sad?’ I asked, now confused again
‘We know that star shone brightly over the place of Bethlehem!’

‘Don’t you see?’ Santa said, in a voice so dark and dire
‘It is faith through all the ages that lit that holy fire!
And as that faith diminishes, and people turn away from the light
That star gets ever weaker and soon will not be bright’

‘And then how will the shepherds three and the wise men from afar
Be shown to baby Jesus, if not by that fair star!’
We sat for a few moments, lost in our own thoughts
Then Santa rose up quickly and caused some reindeer snorts

‘What is your name?’ he said to me, in a determined but friendly way
‘Mary’, I said, with a smile, as he helped me to his sleigh.
‘Come’ he said with authority ‘We are going for a trip’
And he whistled to his reindeer and flicked the brake off with his hip.

 

I confess my heart went cold, and my soul was rife with fears
For the sleigh I was now riding in was traveling back in years
For when the sleigh stopped, and it skidded to a halt
A manger appeared before me, and I stood up with a jolt.

‘Am I where I think I am?’ I asked Santa with a yelp
‘Yes’ he said ‘You surely are, we have to try and help’
Before I could take a breath and before I could adjust my eyes
My ears echoed loudly with holy baby cries.

‘Come’ said Santa quickly, ‘We must away from here
And find that holy star that needs faith, and hope and cheer’
So the sleigh again rose up, even higher into the sky
Until we saw before us a sight that made me cry.

The star had lost its power, its dullness made me swoon
As I looked upon the Manger, now lit only by the moon.
‘What can we do’ said Santa ‘To light this light so bright
And bring faith back to the future, so to shine this star tonight?’

It was then I started thinking of the mission I was on
And the reason I had stayed up, in the cold, the whole night long.
‘Santa, don’t you see’ I said at an excited pace
‘The faith we seek can still be seen, just shifted in its place’

‘What do you mean?’ Santa asked, as he caused his sleigh to stop
‘Have you found the faith that falters? And continues to ever drop?’
‘Yes!’ I said excitedly ‘At least a place to start!
For every Christmas season I see faith in many hearts!’

‘Every child that is living, in the time from when I come
Has faith in all your reindeer, your jolly beard and your tum!’
‘That is true little one’ said Santa ‘Though that faith is oft misplaced
For all I do, and have ever done, is for that babies face’

‘I am a champion of that baby, the finest he could pick
It is not for nothing that Santa Claus is really old Saint Nick!’
‘Well then’ I said with glee and a patient cheerful stare.
‘Why not pass that faith on with a simple little prayer!’

At that Santa brightened, for a solution had been found!
He flew the sleigh down quickly and knelt down on the ground.
‘I pray to you dear infant, asleep and in your grace
To receive this gift from me, the one with the jolly face’

 

‘The faith that oft flows to me, through Yuletide feasts and song
And the faith that children give me, and not you, where it belongs’
And then a flash of lightening lit the sky so far and wide
And the famous star of Bethlehem shone brightly down with pride.

And Santa stood and hugged me and ruffled my mousey hair
‘Mary, you have reminded me of the power of a prayer’
With that we flew to the future, and my sad wee orphan’s home
And Santa landed gently to the left of the grey dome.

‘Mary you just saved Christmas’ Santa said and helped me stand
‘So ask for any present and I will give it if I can’
‘Take me with you’ I blurted out ‘Away from this grey place
To make dolls and books and presents and toys and bikes and lace’

‘I’m sorry Mary’ he said, with a sympathetic edge
‘Where I live must stay a secret, that is my solemn pledge!
But as you helped me so much to give this world a sweet reprieve
I will come and take you with me on my trip each Christmas Eve’

“And he does”, said Sister Mary, now back into the present
“I fly with him each Holy Eve and our chats are always pleasant”
The roaring fire crackled and it took some time to speak
I saw the cat still sleeping and the tree lights blink and tweak

I sat back in my chair and shook my head in awe
“Did all that really happen? Really? Are you sure?”
Sister Mary stood up, and slowly limped over to me
Then gave me a memento that made me gasp with glee

“In that picture you can see, through the dark and snowy freeze
The very sight I saw that night before I chanced to sneeze”
The old picture in my hand showed two people in the night
One looked just like Santa Claus, with an Angel on his right.

“You must be going now” she said “So I can bake some buns
And put on some warm clothing for the sleigh ride, when he comes!”
And so down a misty lane, and beyond a snowy path
I left a small thatched cottage, an old woman at the hearth.

Are her tales truthful, and the adventures she perceives?
If yay or nay, I know this day, I’ll be back next Christmas Eve!