The Joys of Christmas

The Joys of Christmas

Are multiplied

When we spend time with

The brothers and sisters

Who shared the excitement

of Christmas with us

as children.

Jeanette, Jerry, Lynn James, DeLoy, Carol Lee, Shirley, Lucy, Verla 1947

Christmas in Orderville.  DeRay, Mama, Verla, Jeanette, Jerry, Carol.  1956

DeRay, Lynn, Jerry, Carol, Juanita, Jeanette, Verla
Three missing who live too far away:  Shirley, New Castle, UT; DeLoy, Goleta, CA; Lucy, Heaven.

 The Spirit of Christmas

Is enhanced when we visit

The home of a grown child who was

Born to us four days before Christmas;

Eat good food and share the fourth advent

Candles, stories, and music

With his family and

Both sets of admiring grandparents.

Advent Candles, left

When Brooke Duffin Hugh was born on December 21, 1971, Mama sent us this poem:

May a baby come to thee,

And lie beneath your Christmas tree,

In a cradle set with pine

Be a perfect present thine. . .

And, when the blessed day is done,

Birthday of God’s only son,

May your heart a cradle be

Needing not a Christmas tree,

For in your arms a babe will stay –

Every hour a Christmas day! --Author Unknown

Mama holding Brooke, Uncle Ed.  Blessing in Orderville Ward.

Three years later when Amy Lyn was born on December 30, 1974, I wrote our own version of the poem:   

Jeanne, holding Amy Lyn, Brent, Travis, Brooke with Grandma Esplin.

Amy Lyn, 6 months

           Two new babies came to us

And lay amongst the Christmas muss.

Also, one in March and two in May

Made each of those a Blessed Day.

For in all the world there’s nothing sweeter

Than five little kids to make our home neater!

Even nighttime competition is keen

   for tiny Amy Lyn.

I’m sure those three think for parents

   to sleep a night through a sin!

One night Travis will spend throwing up;

   then Brooke to potty must go –

That’s hard with ghosts in the bathroom. 

    Next we soak an infected toe.

Of course, the two big ones are helpful

   as only children can be:

Hanging up dirty clothes, throwing

   down clean clothes for me.

They glue on the carpet, kick doors shut,

   need rides for 6 AM basketball.

“Mama, I forgot my lunch tickets;

   also my library books all.”

“Can you come and pick up

   my baritone and me?”

“Can Valori sleep over?” 

   “I need $10 for Scout fee.”

“It’s not my dog.”  “I fed

   the chickens yesterday.”

“I can’t set the table, I gotta

   made sure my piano’s OK.”

“Am I late home from school? 

   How’d it get to be seven?”

“When I’m nine, I’m going

   to stay up until eleven.”

Grandma thinks we’re a house

   of confusion and fuss,

Make no mistake; we’re glad

   the children came to us.

For in our house our babes will stay

   Making every hour a Christmas Day!

à

Then on a birthday/Christmas card we sent to Brooke in 1991 when he was on a mission in Germany, we wrote:

You were the baby who came to stay

Making every hour a Christmas Day!

Serious and silent, smart and mild,

I sometimes wonder, were you ever a child?

Your spirit is expansive, wise beyond years;

You steadied our ship when we shed our tears.

Twenty years since we heard that knock

And brought you home in a Christmas sock;

Now miles away, you’re the one

Proclaiming the message of God’s only son.