Category Archives: faith

A Lifetime of Christmas Poetry

My mom, Raynette Forister Eitel, passed away in September of 2022, age
85, drifting away into dementia. It was tragic to watch this woman who loved
words, who was a poet and teacher, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime
of crafting poetry.

Mom had a tradition of writing a new Christmas poem each year and
sending it to friends and relatives. The mailing list grew each year, and
people always told us they looked forward to mom’s Christmas poems. She
published some in a couple little books. There are too many to post just once a
day during the month of December, but I’ll choose some of the best.

Los Regalos Por Cristo  (The Gifts for Christ)
by Raynette Eitel

For you I strung these red peppers
On the adobe wall.
For you I gathered piñon nuts
Sun-warmed and small.

For you I patted tortillas,
Round like the sun and gold.
For you I simmered frijoles,
All my clay pot could hold.

For you blue piñon smoke curls up
Like a woman’s prayer.
For you I scrub my niños
And comb their shiny hair.

At last I set luminarias
And give each candle light
To help you on your journey
This Holy Night.

A Lifetime of Christmas Poetry

My mom, Raynette Forister Eitel, passed away in September of 2022, age
85, drifting away into dementia. It was tragic to watch this woman who loved
words, who was a poet and teacher, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime
of crafting poetry.

Mom had a tradition of writing a new Christmas poem each year and
sending it to friends and relatives. The mailing list grew each year, and
people always told us they looked forward to mom’s Christmas poems. She
published some in a couple little books. There are too many to post just once a
day during the month of December, but I’ll choose some of the best.

The Story of Love
by Raynette Eitel

Love came, radiant as a star,
Innocent as an infant,
Soft as a song in the night
Sung by heavenly hosts.

Love walked on troubled waters,
Turned water to wine,
Turned fishes and loaves to a feast,
And blind eyes were opened.

Yet someone spit on Love,
Hung Love on a cross,
Put Love in a tomb;
But Love would not die.

Now Love sits at the right hand
Of the Father
And shines in the eyes of children,
In candles set in windows,

In branches of my tree,
In my heart—
Still radiant as a star,
And warm as the noonday sun.

A Lifetime of Christmas Poetry

My mom, Raynette Forister Eitel, passed away in September of 2022, age
85, drifting away into dementia. It was tragic to watch this woman who loved
words, who was a poet and teacher, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime
of crafting poetry.

Mom had a tradition of writing a new Christmas poem each year and
sending it to friends and relatives. The mailing list grew each year, and
people always told us they looked forward to mom’s Christmas poems. She
published some in a couple little books. There are too many to post just once a
day during the month of December, but I’ll choose some of the best.

I Wish You
by Raynette Eitel

I wish you the warmth of a Christmas fire,
The light of a Yuletide tree,
The love of family gathered ‘round,
A perfect memory.

I wish you the hush of Christmas night,
The silver crust of snow,
A million stars to light your path
Wherever you may go.

I wish you the peace that comes with prayer,
The joy that giving brings,
The golden sound of Christmas songs,
And the stir of angel wings.

A Lifetime of Christmas Poetry

My mom, Raynette Forister Eitel, passed away in September of 2022, age
85, drifting away into dementia. It was tragic to watch this woman who loved
words, who was a poet and teacher, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime
of crafting poetry.

Mom had a tradition of writing a new Christmas poem each year and
sending it to friends and relatives. The mailing list grew each year, and
people always told us they looked forward to mom’s Christmas poems. She
published some in a couple little books. There are too many to post just once a
day during the month of December, but I’ll choose some of the best.

Green Pastures and Angels
by Raynette Eitel

I was just a boy asleep beside my sheep
In a green pasture outside Bethlehem.
I dreamt of still waters when
An angel holding a rod and staff
Spoke of a Savior being born.

I was so afraid until I heard the music.
There, in the midnight sky, a chorus of angels
More numerous than sheep was singing such songs that
My fear vanished and my head felt anointed with oil.
Peace filled my cup and ran over.

When I started out to find the Babe that night,
Bethlehem was bathed in Holy Light.
I followed it to a humble place
And knelt in grace before a King.

Then as I left, I shouted out the good news,
Herding my sheep through Bethlehem streets,
Rejoicing as I returned to green pastures.
Goodness and mercy followed me all the way.

I am an old man now, and still I yearn
For a night sky filled with light,
For angel songs soothing
Me to sleep beside my quiet sheep,
And faith enough to dwell
In the house of the Lord forever.

A Lifetime of Christmas Poetry

My mom, Raynette Forister Eitel, passed away in September of 2022, age 85, drifting away into dementia. It was tragic to watch this woman who loved words, who was a poet and teacher, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime of crafting poetry.

Mom had a tradition of writing a new Christmas poem each year and sending it to friends and relatives. The mailing list grew each year, and people always told us they looked forward to mom’s Christmas poems. She published some in a couple little books. There are too many to post just once a day during the month of December, but I’ll choose some of the best.

Christmas in the Desert
by Raynette Eitel

It is Christmas in the desert.
There are miracles here.
Footprints stretch across the sand
As though three men following a star
From afar left their trail to show the way.

The night sky, gift-wrapped in silver
And tied with glittery tangles of stars
Is placed just outside my window.

Red rivers of dawn flow across the sky.
A mesquite bush glows as though on fire,
But is not consumed.

Rocks hold remnants of sea creatures,
Of seashells, of old oceans covering this place.
Somewhere there are splinters of an ancient ark.

I see far enough in this clear air
To know that mountains are moving,
Shaking loose all the prophets,
Scattering them across the pristine land.

So I strain to hear God speaking,
To understand the songs angels are singing
And to comprehend a newborn baby’s cry.

It is Christmas in the desert.
I don’t know why,
But there are miracles here.