Christmas Conglomerate

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 Conglomerate
by Raynette Eitel

Bells that have forever rung
Are pealing out across the night,
And all the voices ever sung
Are chanting of a holy light.

Tinseled memory defines
All the love we ever gave
Every candle prayer still shines
Their golden light inside the nave.

Shepherds with their flocks of sheep
Search ever for a baby King,
Poets with promises to keep
Are penning songs for us to sing.

Our joy takes wing as voices swell,
“It Came Upon a Midnight Clear,”
Or “Silent Night” and “First Noel”
The carols that we hold so dear.

Sweet frankincense, the myrrh and gold,
A royal three led by a star
To find the truth in stories told
Of virgin birth in lands afar.

The tangled ropes of hope and cheer
We grasp in childlike faith and prayer
Then feel the Christ child drawing near
And Christmas spirit everywhere.

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Christmas Comes In

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 Comes In
by Raynette Eitel

Christmas comes in before
Ribbons tangle across the floor,
Before children pounce upon
Packages with primeval intensity.

Christmas skips in on
Happy memories of tinseled trees,
Feathers of snowflakes
Fluttering like birds from night skies,
Cherubs sitting on Santa’s lap
With trust in their eyes,
Sticky fingers and red lips
From a half-eaten candy cane.

Christmas wafts in
On waves of cinnamon
Straight from a hot oven,
Glitters of colored sugar,
Gingerbread men with raisin eyes,
Platters of dark chocolate fudge
Waiting for the tasting.

Christmas dances in on songs of old,
Chords for heartstrings,
Simple stories retold as emotions unfold,
Joy in every language known to man,
Set in a little town called Bethlehem.

Christmas tiptoes in with quiet peace,
The bright light of a single star
Shining on a simple stable,
A sleepy hillside,
A flock of sheep,
While far away, kings bring gifts
To a child they have not known.

Christmas whispers in on prayers for peace,
Piles of cards sent friend to friend to friend,
Messages of love and caring
Shared once again
Like gold and frankincense and myrrh.

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Christmas Carols

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 Carols
by Raynette Eitel

Christmas carols take shelter
In the folds of night
And come out to dance
By candlelight.

They dwell in bells
Pealing their tones
Heavy with snow
White against the night sky.

Christmas songs linger long
In memories of childhood,
Hide in tears
And spill down cheeks.

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Children’s Christmas Concert

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.

Children’s Christmas Concert
by Raynette Eitel

Snatches of songs like
Small squares of silk
Stitched in arpeggios,

Chords of quilted memories
Open even the jaded heart to
Visions of Christmas past.

Grace notes skitter across the sky
Like breadcrumbs bidding
Me to find my way back to childhood.

My tongue tastes candy canes
And my eyes see trees heavy
And glittering with innocent snow.

But now it is the ears receiving the gift,
Just as shepherds heard angels long ago
When blinded by a star.

It is these joyful children who
Scatter seeds of Christmas spirit,
In songs laced with miracles,

Wrapping their concert in curly ribbons
That ripple rapturously across the room to
Render us ready for another season of Noel.

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Carolers Wrap the Season

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.

Carolers Wrap the Season
by Raynette Eitel

In cold snow-dreams tied with fa-la-la ribbons,
And in nostalgia, prickly with holly,
Damp with tears, sharp with memories of
Melodies thick with the cinnamon scent of Christmas,
A holy hush hovers between the songs.

It is an empty space filled with Bethlehem
As a silver star slips along the sky
Showing the way surely, silently
To all who would search.

Once again, the music pulses its proclamation
“Gloria in Excelsis Deo!”
Pouring arpeggios like candies bursting from a piñata
Leaving the listeners on their knees
Scrambling for a morsel,
And breathless with ecstasy.

The carolers turn to leave
Calling out “Merry Christmas!”
And though they are gone, their music remains.
It is a package, pulsing like a candle in the darkness.
Those listening are not sure for a moment
Whether Bethlehem is near or far.

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Calypso Christmas

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.

Calypso Christmas
by Raynette Eitel, 1989

Some places Christmas comes in like a calypso,
Steel bands playing a Merry Christmas across white sands,
Bongos beating a message for dancing,
Always the dancing barefoot, frenzied,
Skin glistening beneath a hot sun.

Some places Christmas trims trees in fruit,
Juicy balls of orange and tangerine,
Bunches of bananas bending low
Coconuts hanging way above reach,
Swaying as the calypso on the beach plays on.

Some places Christmas comes in with perfumed air
From swags of bougainvillea as
The Christmas calypso drifts into open windows.
People lean far out to catch the rhythm,
Laughing a joyful laugh, tapping a happy beat,
Sending little showers of petals fluttering
Like red butterflies in the breeze.

Before morning, a warm blue sea erases footprints
From the silent sand; and yet
A steel band sound lingers on the surf,
And that Christmas calypso beat lasts all year long.

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As a Little Child

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.

As a Little Child
by Raynette Eitel

A little child with Christmas eyes,
Peppermint lips, and sticky hands
Stood paper-doll still,
Everything within her body straining
To hear the sounds of hoofbeats on the roof
And a mighty “Ho-Ho-Ho” echoing across the night.

Only the ancient certainty of childhood
Could account for those dancing feet stilled
Or expectant eyes looking everywhere
For signs of his coming.

I, long-since deafened and blinded by years,
Watch warily as Wonder and Awe and Love
Are born again in this child.

My breathing stops,
My own ears strain to catch a sound.
And oh, the wonder of knowing once again
The deafening whisper of angel wings and
The healing glimpse of one bright star.

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Godly Grief

Sometimes a phrase will pop up in the Bible that takes me by surprise. Though I’ve read it several times through, still I find new things as if I’d never seen them before! This is the beauty of God’s Word, this living text, that inspires and convicts and breathes life into the believer.

Recently I came across the phrase “godly grief,” found in 2 Corinthians chapter 7, also called “godly sorrow” in another version.

We are familiar with grief and sorrow, and those terms are found in scripture. But what is different about godly sorrow, as it is used in the Bible?

First real grief (or sorrow). There is a deep feeling of loss in the death of a loved one, or the loss of one’s health or material goods such as income or property. This is the ache, the emptiness, the yearning, mourning, for what you’ve had.

Job, in the Bible, lost everything: his family, wealth, and health. All he had left was his life, such as it was, and his integrity. We know that he never cursed God for his losses. His quote is familiar to us: when his wife advised him to “curse God and die,” he replied, “Shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity?” (NASB, Job 2:9-10).

And then there is godly sorrow—something I believe is more heart-wrenching, but it is God’s tool which produces great joy in the end.

Paul mentions godly sorrow in 2 Corinthians. In his first letter, he had chastised the church in Corinth for the way they had returned to their previous lifestyles, not displaying their new faith. He set them straight in several areas, sternly and lovingly, as a parent would a wayward teen.

In his next letter, he says that though he regrets causing them sorrow, he does not regret the “godly sorrow” that his letter produced in them. What kind of paradox is this?

Just like a parent who says, “Believe me, you’ll thank me later,” Paul knew that he needed to reprimand them so that they could make changes and become more mature in their faith. This was Paul’s method to bring them to repentance.

“As it is, I rejoice, not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting. For you felt a godly grief, so that you suffered no loss through us. For godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death” (ESV, 2 Corinthians 7:9-10).

Repentance is God’s gift, one step along His way of saving us. We cannot be saved until we know we need saving. And how do we come to that knowledge? We face our sins, those myriad ways we have fallen short of God’s perfection. Suddenly we see them; the Holy Spirit has laid them all bare to us, in all their ugliness. We realize there is nothing we can do to save ourselves, to make ourselves clean from the sins we have committed.

This is not a “Gee, I’m sorry I got caught” kind of grief. That’s easy to manufacture, and it doesn’t produce true repentance leading to salvation. No, God is gracious to show us how guilty we are, and He mercifully teaches us that there’s no way we can make it better on our own.

My desire for cleanliness, for mercy when I should be declared guilty, comes about because God has granted me the godly sorrow that leads to repentance.

Peter denied Christ three times on the night of His arrest. He had no self-awareness of the fact that he had sinned so blatantly—until a rooster crowed, something Jesus had told him ahead of time: “Truly I say to you that this very night, before a rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” In self-protection mode, Peter denied Him to anyone who thought they’d seen him with Jesus, and when the rooster crowed, “…he went out and wept bitterly.” It was the remembrance of his vow never to deny Jesus, and Jesus’ prophecy that indeed he would (NASB, Matthew 26:34, 75). Peter was heartbroken that he had sinned by denying Jesus in an attempt to protect his own skin. Imagine how deeply Peter grieved.

Mercifully, upon Jesus’ resurrection, He asked Peter three times, “Do you love me?”  Three times Peter answered that yes, he did. Peter was distressed that Jesus would ask three times, but here Christ showed Peter the sweet grace of forgiveness after his deep, godly sorrow. One declaration of love for each denial Peter had made.

King David took another man’s wife and then arranged to have that man killed in battle. When the prophet Nathan pointed out David’s sin (we refuse to “see” our own sin until God reveals it to us!), David repented: “I have sinned against the Lord” (2 Samuel 12:13). For seven days he fasted, on the ground, in great grief. He penned two Psalms, Chapters 32 and 51, recounting his godly grief, repentance, and forgiveness.

“How blessed,” writes David, “is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered! How blessed is the man to whom the Lord does not impute iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no deceit! When I kept silent about my sin, my body wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night Your hand was heavy upon me; my vitality was drained away as with the fever heat of summer. I acknowledged my sin to You, and my iniquity I did not hide; I said, ‘I will confess my transgressions to the Lord;’ and You forgave the guilt of my sin” (Psalm 32:1-5).

How beautiful to see one’s own sin for what it is—a crime against God—and recognize it, and experience first great grief—godly grief—and then the sweet relief of forgiveness when we have repented!

Godly grief, then, is a gift from God, the means He uses to bring us to repentance that leads to salvation.

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Filed under Biblical Worldview, Pain and suffering, Sovereignty of God

By the Heceta Lighthouse

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, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime of crafting poetry. To honor her, I’m sharing some of her poems. To read more of her poems, keep coming back here.

She grew up in the desert Southwest, but she fell in love with the sea once she was able to travel more, briefly living next to the ocean with our stepdad, Jim, and returning to the seashore every chance she got. We will be traveling to the coast to celebrate her life later this summer.

By the Heceta Lighthouse
(on the coast of Oregon)

by Raynette Eitel

The rambling Pacific rumbles in here
With harsh messages from afar.
The old Heceta Lighthouse watches,
A sentinel high above the beach
Shining its eye across blue waters.

Roars of sea lions and gongs of whales
Bounce over the sand on waves
Exploding across tall monoliths,
Leaving only liquid lace
And stacks of pale bleached driftwood.

Wisps of pink morning mist
Cling to cliffs like a painted fantasy.
The foghorn moans, gulls weep,
Even as a deep percussive sound of sea
Pounds its centuries-old rhythm.

The Pacific continues to roll in
While poets post mist-filled poems
In the salty sand. As the tide goes out
Words lie beside purple sea fans
And juicy clams with pearly shells
Waiting patiently to be discovered.

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Bonfire on the Beach

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, fade away into wordlessness after a lifetime of crafting poetry. To honor her, I’m sharing some of her poems. To read more of her poems, keep coming back here.

She grew up in the desert Southwest, but she fell in love with the sea once she was able to travel more, briefly living next to the ocean with our stepdad, Jim, and returning to the seashore every chance she got. We will be traveling to the coast to celebrate her life later this summer.

Bonfire on the Beach

by Raynette Eitel

The sun sinks into the Pacific,
A red ball, rolling quickly across the sky
And plunging into the crimson sea,

Darkness begins to cover the beach,
Save for small bonfires blazing along the sand.
Families gather for this time of laughter and light.

Small children with marshmallows on a stick
Complete the ritual of happiness. Songs float
Across the smoky night and all is well.

In future years, when they smell wood burning,
They will recall happy campfires, the taste of
Scorched marshmallows and sweetness before sleep.

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