Merry Christmas!

Where are the signs

and wonders?

I wonder.

The frost moon hangs

low in the sky –

Jupiter a beacon by its side.

Was it just such a

moon and planet

that tugged the waters

from Mary’s body?

Was she transfixed

(as I was transfixed)

until the hard business

of birth chased the

moon from her mind?

I wonder.

Today I sing

The First Noel and

Silent Night

and imagine Mary and me,

heads tilted back

looking at the moon.

Clamorous murmuring years

separate our gazes.

But it’s the same moon

and we’re thinking about

the same Messiah.

That might be sign

and wonder enough

for me.

Dana & Mike Rhyne

Christmas 2012

Merry Christmas!

Dr. M & I have been writing an annual Christmas poem for twenty years now. Twenty! If you'd like to read our past efforts, click here. This year it was Dr. M's turn. Enjoy - and Merry Christmas!

Queen Mother

Mother, invested with crown,

Blood-stain red halo,

Glassy-eyed pale visage,

Lead-solder heavy burden

Cradled in your strong arms...

Master craftsmen of yore

Immortalized you this way,

And so, in turn, do we.

What happened to that

Brown-eyed, dark-haired girl,

Still young, but naïve no more?

How often did you cry “Why”

As your child grew within

While you were shunned

From without? Did you shout

“eli eli lama sabachthani” too?

We appeal to you, Mary,

In our times of trouble,

For you are the one

Who brought forth

The Son on whom

We now gaze in wonder:

“Vision of glory, this Child

Asleep on the hay.”

Pray, should we also ponder

What was asked of you,

Oh Blessed Madonna,

By Our Father in Heaven

Whose child you carried,

Raised, loved, and buried:

The One who made your belly

A swelling vessel of Presence?

Mike & Dana Rhyne

Christmas 2011

Stretch Out Your Hand

It was my turn to write the 19^th annual Christmas poem & I really struggled with it. After 18 years of poems I guess it can be difficult to approach the subject in a new way. I'm still not sure what I think about it as a Christmas poem, but it's what came & it's what went out in our cards this year.  

If you're feeling brave you can read the other 18 poems here. Dr. M wrote the ones where his name is listed first and I wrote the ones where mine is. 

Rebecca Jo at Knit By God's Hand gave me the idea for this poem in this post. It went in a different direction from what I thought when I started, but she got me started down this road.

Stretch Out Your Hand 

Every day my head snaps back
in surprise at evil.
Like a child, wide-eyed and amazed,
every time. Upheaval.

I try to be cynical,
to harden my heart.
Jaundiced and jaded,
impervious, apart.

But, like a child, my head snaps back
again and again
and again and I'm gasping for breath
calling your name.

Lord God Jehovah.
God of this morass.
God of my tender heart.
God of first and last.

Hear my cry as my head snaps back
for the wounded world
and for the sometimes wounded me
and sometimes hope tightly furled.

Jesus said, "Stretch out your hand."
That withered hand made whole.
Is that the answer then?
Unfurl the hope and free the soul.

And one more time my head snaps back
as I realize the meaning -
that I am not a mute observer
while the world awaits its healing.

Sing noel for Jesus has come!
His outstretched hand touches mine
and anoints my head and heart to
go forth go forth this Christmastide!

Dana and Mike Rhyne
Christmas 2010

This poem is being posted as part of the early edition of One Shot Wednesday. Please go here to check out the other poets.

18 Days of Christmas - The Eighteenth Day!

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end. 

Ah, it's Christmas Day & the madness ends! Here is this year's poem & card. I think the cards will do - although I must say that I didn't take a lot of care with them. In fact, I had drafted a poem that began, "Poorly colored penguins..." Thank goodness Dr. M needed to procrastinate grading papers & wrote this gem!

P.S. The card stock was the same color for the inside & outside of the card - my scanner just likes to make up its own colors sometimes :)

Merry Christmas!

18 Days of Christmas - The Seventeenth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

Here it is Christmas Eve. Did you think this day would never arrive? I was beginning to wonder. I hope that you are all celebrating in a way that is meaningful for you.

Have you been keeping score? At this point I have written 9 poems & Dr. M has written 8. So this year it's his turn. It was touch & go as to whether or not he would have time (I even composed something to use in a pinch), but in the end he came through. Tomorrow is Christmas Day - and the 18th poem! Whew!

18 Days of Christmas - The Sixteenth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

We're on the home stretch! I know I'm relieved - how about you? I sent out a few homemade cards this year, but everyone else got store-bought (well, charity-bought, actually). We did include a picture of a manger scene (purchased from Ten Thousand Villages) with a penguin placemat underneath it - we thought the incongruity matched the poem pretty well. The angel is a bridesmaid's favor from the wedding of the very cousin mentioned in the poem (hey Kim - up with penguins, down with bears!).

Penguins are in this year,

More so than polar bears,

Though dear cousin cares not

For this dreadful fad.

Worse yet, I bet you’ll see

Lots of pairs of penguins

And bears, though in nature

No such habitat exists.

Still, this is Christmastime

When miracles abound.

And as we cruise the cities,

Villages and towns filled

With lights and sounds,

I am amazed by the many

Displays that, in their own way,

Show respect to the simple manger,

Holy Crèche, where our savior saw

First light that winter’s night

In Bethlehem. Baby Jesu, verily

We have not forgotten you.

Mike & Dana Rhyne

Christmas 2007

18 Days of Christmas - The Fifteenth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

I think this poem speaks for itself - I was in a mood!

I’m cancelling Christmas
I’m just not in the mood
I’m going to mope for a month
And harrumph and brood


I won’t look at the lights
I won’t eat pecan pie
I won’t watch the Grinch
I won’t watch Burl Ives


The tree will stay boxed
The baubles stay packed
No Santas or reindeer
No toy train tracks


I won’t sing a carol
I won’t even hum
I’m not making a card
And not writing this poem!

Inexorably the words appear on paper…
Christmas comes –
I am a small voice swept along…
Christmas comes –


Christmas comes –
The babe comes –
whether I’m in the mood – or not!

Dana & Mike Rhyne
Christmas 2006

18 Days of Christmas - The Fourteenth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

This was our first Christmas without my Mom. We lost her in March. Then in May a friend was killed in a car accident. It was a tough year. Another friend had a premature baby in October. Ellie fought so hard for life - we were all in awe of that drive. She wasn't with us long - almost nine months, but for that short time she was our hero.

Striving to drive the blues away,
I play my dulcimer until, numb,

My hands can strum no more.

A simple gift, this music I make,

But I take nothing for granted

These days, believe you me.

We will sing our songs of Christmas

From an unfamiliar place this year.

Our worst fear came to pass last spring.

Then, with a sudden crash,

Another dear one departed.

Brokenhearted, we cry “Why, Oh Lord?”

Fleeting life, babe-in-a-manger fragile,

Certain death, awaiting even Mary’s child,

What hope have we against this foe?

Through a tiny infant’s birth

We are shown a path, and so press on,

Like little Ellie, to live, to become.

God’s children, we all already are,

Near and far, let our voices ring as one!

We sing our song of hope in loving memory.

Mike and Dana Rhyne

Christmas 2005

18 Days of Christmas - The Thirteenth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

This is the year of my mother's kidney cancer. She was diagnosed in April and had surgery to remove a kidney in May. Unfortunately they weren't able to remove all the cancer. By the time we were writing the Christmas poem this year the cancer had moved to her liver.

18 Days of Christmas - The Twelfth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

18 Days of Christmas - The Eleventh Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

This was the first year that I tried my hand at making Christmas cards, and we actually made the poem the inside of the card (there were a couple of years where we were too wordy to do that!).

18 Days of Christmas - The Tenth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

We were in Washington DC doing research for Dr. M's dissertation on September 11. On that morning, oblivious because we hadn't listened to the news, we tried to head to down to the National Archives. As you might imagine, we never got there. This was the first Christmas after the tragedy - and our first Christmas of trying to find joy amidst rubble.

How strange it is to compose
A poem for Christmas
This year, through tears
Of anger, pain, fear and dread.

Sunday, 9-9, Rehobeth Beach.
Great earth mother lapping
At our feet, her pups
Come home for a bath.

Our souls refreshed by the sea,
We gave no care or thought
Of what hell would be
Wrought in this land come 9-11.

Bright morning sun, a drive
In the park, a stop, a search,
Anger in a Ranger’s eyes,
Hints, then finally the news.

American Babel,
Now ashes and rubble.
God’s will? How ill I become
At such a thought.

On 9-11, God, Spirit, Son
Surely sighed and trembled
And cried for what those
Misguided children had done.

This Christmastide,
Spread far and wide God’s
Good news, a message not new,
Yet what can we do but sing it?

Glad tidings, great joy, how
We need to hear and feel you!
Peace and good will, please come
Now to all earth’s peoples. Amen.

Mike and Dana Rhyne,
Christmas 2001

18 Days of Christmas - The Ninth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

The tree is not so big this year,
A compromise, nothing near the size
Of the behemoth it succeeds.
Hard choices must be made,
Not all our old familiar friends
Can nestle in its finite boughs.

 Remember Wake Forest, 1991,
A tree much smaller even than this,
Yet big enough for gifts we shared.
Sitting on the bed, one year wed,
Writing notes in some, not all, the cards,
Who knows what we said? Please tell us!

House, tree, bed, old friends, now gone,
We hold on to memories, mellowing
As they age in the cellars of our hearts.
“Our First Christmas” couple, as then,
Will swing in their heart from a limb,
Midst penguins aplenty, rest assured.

Foghorn Leghorn and Snoopy
And Hallmark keepsakes, by the score,
And souvenirs from far and near
And balls and beads and bells
And bows, red, gold, and purple,
Will trim the tree once more.

Other treasures we’ll set aside,
The joy they bring deferred,
Boxed up but not discarded.
How could they ever be?
Look at them, they are forever
Part of you and me.

With all our love on our 10th anniversary,
Mike and Dana Rhyne, 2000.

18 Days of Christmas - The Eighth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

My soul is anchored
by the manger-
for isn’t it a new beginning?

Tomorrow I will look ahead to Easter
knowing that resurrection
is before us:
        miraculous
        God for me.

But for now, in the quiet
of the stable, in the stillness
of first sleep,
       (miraculous
        God with me)

knowing how the years
from this moment of birth
to that moment of rebirth
will change human history,
        my history,
I think of the baby,
and beginnings,
of the new year (I resolve…).

Advent is upon me.
Peering into the manger,
I am made new.

Dana & Mike Rhyne
Christmas 1999

P.S. Happy Anniversary dear heart! Nineteen years of wedded bliss - and all that other stuff life throws at you. How about another 19 or 49 more?

18 Days of Christmas - The Seventh Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end. Have you noticed yet that when Dr. M was the primary author I don't have much to say about the poem. Apparently I never asked his motivations at the time, & goodness knows we probably wouldn't remember now!

My life goes on in endless song,
A perverse lamentation.
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
That hails the new creation.

Far off, distant, beyond:
Divine clockmaker, piecing
Together our universe, setting
All in motion, then hiding?

How strange to build
A clock so grand
And not attend the grains
Of sand as we pass through.

Yet, still, it rings: Creation’s song.
Listen! Ere long you will hear it:
A song, carried by the wind.
Did it all begin with God singing?

And look, there, low
In the twilit sky, a strange new star
Signals us with its twinkling light;
We must not fight its call.

But where, how long?
The song does not say.
It only beckons:
Come, follow me and see.

And so we walk, alone, but lonely
No longer, for the song and the light
Grow stronger and brighter
With each passing day.

I think, this time,
We might find the long-awaited gift:
The Promised One whose love
Will lift our hearts and souls to God.

Above the tumult and the strife,
I hear its music ringing!
It sounds an echo in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

Mike & Dana Rhyne
Christmas 1998

18 Days of Christmas - The Sixth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end. This year's poem was inspired by Mother Paula Jackson, Rector of Church of Our Saviour Episcopal Church in Cincinnati, Ohio. This was the year we moved from North Carolina to Ohio.

Let all mortal flesh keep silence,
and with fear and trembling stand.

shh...

In the stillness I hear
the cry of a newborn infant.
Such wailing!
Can you see the tiny fingers,
tiny toes?
Can you feel his heartbeat—
the rhythm of new life?
New life!
Born in blood and water
like us.
Cleansed and clothed
and fed and wailing still,
like us.
Reaching out in blind trust
to the humans around him,
like us.
God’s child on this still night
of birth and promise,
like us.
...and not like us.
Word made flesh,
God from God
with us!

Alleluia, Alleluia,
Alleluia! Lord Most High.

Dana & Mike Rhyne
Christmas 1997

18 Days of Christmas - The Fifth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

I take each ornament

from its box

and hang it on the tree.

The angel aunt Mary

gave me in its

special place,

Grandma Rhyne’s

old fashioned baubles glittering,

The purple bows Mike made,

“Our First Christmas,”

Each a symbol of hope

and promise

and past.

This green ritual!

This fragrant season!

I close my eyes.

Surrounded by a forest,

I imagine that God’s hand

places the ornaments with mine.

I am celebrating the birth of Jesus

with my memories.

Dana & Mike Rhyne

Christmas 1996

18 Days of Christmas - The Fourth Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

Oh come, oh come, Emanuel,
Ransom my captive heart.

I look for you in the lights.
I see Santas and Reindeer,
Snowmen and Tin Soldiers,
Crosses and Stars and X-mas trees;
Glowing white Mother and Child
Ringed by plastic wise men.
I cannot see you in the garish glare.

Oh come, oh come, Emanuel,
Pitch your tent within me.

I listen for you in the sounds.
I hear Carols and Classics,
Ancient noels and Santa songs,
Pop and Country and Celtic crooners;
Straining has-been voices
Sing old standards of the season.
I cannot hear you in the brassy blare.

Oh come, oh come, Emanuel,
My soul thirsts for you.

And yet I feel you in my voice
As I take up the old familiar lay.
And yet I feel you in my hands—
Shoe boxes bound for Bosnia’s broken children.
And yet I feel you in my heart—
Amazed at my own good fortune.
And so I feel you, with me.

Oh come, oh come, Emanuel,
Fill me with your glad Noel,
That I may sing anew your song:

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emanuel
has come to you (and me)!

Mike & Dana Rhyne
Christmas, 1995

18 Days of Christmas - The Third Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end.

It is a season of silent expectation—

Shepherds, shivering in the night,

await the coming of the messiah

Adonai has promised them.

It is a season of ancient prophecy—

Magi, bearing royal gifts,

follow the light of a new-born star

to David’s city, Bethlehem.

It is a season of two-edged terror—

Herod, obsessed with usurpers,

has words of scripture on his mind

and thoughts of murder in his heart.

It is a season of great gladness—

Angels, foretold of the coming birth,

can hardly keep from singing to God

new-written songs of praise and love.

It is a season of heavenly peace—

Carry Christ-like reconciliation

with you into our embattled world.

It is a season of much rejoicing—

Our Redeemer this day is born!

Mike & Dana Rhyne

Christmas 1994

18 Days of Christmas - The Second Day

From now until Christmas day I am treating you to foisting upon you our collection of Christmas poems. If I made our cards that year I'll post a picture of that as well. If you missed yesterday's poem, click on the 18 Days of Christmas button in my sidebar. The way you can tell who wrote which poem is to note whose name is listed first at the end. I was feeling a little whimsical when I wrote the poem this particular year. I remember my feminist heart being sad that I had to say "Man and woman" in the third to last line, but a W would not have worked.

Make merry this glad season!

Even midst your life’s confusion

Reach out to one another.
Reach out to yourself—
You are your own merry-maker!

Call upon your joyous heart.
Hear its song—it yet exists!
Retreat no more into gloomy sadness
If only for this moment’s reading
See the beauty of creation
Take pride in your beauty too
Man and woman, God has made us
And God’s child was born, Amen!
So, make merry!


Dana & Mike Rhyne
Christmas 1993