The phone is ringing off the hook,
The sanctuary’s hard to book.
Yes it’s clean–dare you to look–
In church, at Christmastime.
One hard-working secretary
Is a little tried and harried.
Under bulletin notes, she’s buried,
In church, at Christmastime.
The kids are plenty sugar wired,
the moms all look a little tired,
and we all know how that transpired
In church, at Christmastime.
Cause church ladies are such a soft touch;
they’ll never say you’re taking too much,
so there are extra cookies and such
In church, at Christmastime.
The dads compare their Rudolph ties–
the brightest & tackiest gets the prize–
cause that’s the way it is with guys
In church, at Christmastime.
The youth group flash-mob was a hit,
(the brave sponsors won’t soon forget)
and well, those kids aren’t tired yet,
In church, at Christmastime.
The band is running practice late,
the choir has too much on its plate,
the preacher’s hollering ‘wait, wait, wait!’
In church, at Christmastime
The fridge is where we keep the candles.
The ‘hallelujah’ isn’t Handle’s.
But at least (so far) we’ve had no vandals
In church, at Christmastime
Plenty of toys in the toy drive sack,
and the light bill broke the camel’s back,
in that old nativity we keep out back,
In Church, at Christmastime
Cans of food for the pantry shelves,
carolers march like happy elves,
and we all smile in spite of ourselves,
In Church, at Christmastime
The pastors look a little fried.
The first poinsettias have already died–
We knew that daggone florist lied
In Church! at Christmastime.
Coffee hour is all fair trade,
and cider replaces lemonade.
Somebody served, and somebody prayed,
In Church, at Christmastime.
All the green stuff has been hung,
Every bell, been shined and rung,
Let every tenor bust a lung,
In Church, at Christmastime.
In waiting space– the quiet place–
there enters in a tiny grace,
and soon we might just see his face,
In church, at Christmas time.
©Erin Wathen, 2012
Photo by Anne Camille @ Four Deer Oak