The Creche

Alana at the Creche

THE CRECHE

I was a bride of twenty in the mid-sixties

decorating my home creatively and economically

by attending ceramic classes Tuesday evenings

in Bette Carozza's basement

We sat round the table and coffee cups

cleaning greenware, applying

underglazes and overglazes

talking girl talk all the while

We made cookie dishes and ashtrays

glossy green Christmas trees with snowy branches

fitted with tiny colored lights

We made rooster lamps, pitchers and bowls

piggy banks and tall German beer steins

The most ambitious of us

made chess pieces and Nativity figures

I began working on my Nativity set in 1965

took a few months off after Mom died

and picked up the last pieces

hot from Bette's old electric kiln

on Christmas Eve Day, 1966

How well I recall carefully cleaning

the fragile greenware with a sharp tool

till the seams were perfectly smooth

sanding and sponging tiny bumps

and filling pit holes

Wanting to be as authentic as possible

I applied three coats of sky blue to Mary's robe

and ruddy brown to Joseph's

Jesus' features were less sharp

than the other figures

having been cast from a mold

that had been poured too many times

I unknowingly made the flesh tones far too pale

for Middle Easterners

The magi and their regal camels

were embellished with accents of pure gold

and I glued tiny rhinestones

onto their gift offerings

even though it's likely

the wisemen didn't visit the Christ Child

until months after He was born

The shepherds' garb were given earth tones

and a staff was provided for one of them

fashioned from a birch twig

I dabbed white froth onto the lambs' coats

and gave the cow big brown patches

making it a Guernsey

a breed not likely to have grazed

the fields of Bethlehem

The long eared donkey was painted gray

Bette's husband, ChiChi

built a fine wooden crèche

with a place on top

to hang the golden haired angel

who flourished a banner proclaiming

"Gloria in Excelsus Deo"

I installed a music box

which played "Adeste Fidelis"

and a little light bulb

and bought a bag of sweet straw

from Woolworth's

For forty-nine Christmases

I've been unpacking the big cardboard box

unwrapping the fragile figures from newspaper

and displaying them throughout the season.

Some years, when the children were young

Jesus wasn't placed in the manger

until Christmas Eve

then we all sang, "Happy Birthday"

The angel now has a chipped wing

and the Guernsey's missing a horn

but Jesus still lies sweetly in His crib

apparently not minding whether or not

I managed to get every jot and tittle

of His manger scene historically correct

He just lies sweetly there

year after year

reminding us

that significant night

long, long ago

is a forever celebration

Maude Carolan Pych

My six going on seven year old granddaughter, Alana Muniz, helped me set up our Nativity set on the day after Thanksgiving.

This is Poem #2 -- A Poem-a-day until Christmas

Have You Been to the Mall?

I'm going to attempt to share a poem a day from now until Christmas...


Here's a question for you:
Did you start your Christmas shopping on Black Friday?

Photo Credit: dailyfinance.com

 CHRISTMAS AT THE MALL

Day after Thanksgiving, at the mall, what is this I see…

Santas sledding in the air and a tinseled Christmas tree,

a roly-poly Frosty, red-nosed Rudolph with some elves,

glittery garlands, balls and bows, bedazzling on the shelves?

The shops are alive with music, “White Christmas,” “Jingle Bells;”

there are “ho, ho, hos,” “let it snows” and cinnamony smells.

It certainly all seems festive, so cheery and so bright,

but what oh what does it have to do with that Holy night?

I cannot find a manger scene, an angel or a star,

I do not see the wisemen…wonder where the shepherds are.

I do not hear a carol or the story of the birth

of Our Savior, Jesus Christ, Who dwelled right here on Earth.

Many, it seems, have cast aside the things that matter most.

By replacing them with fairy-tales, the Treasure became lost.

My heart fills up with sorrow, and I feel the need to prod

the waning faith of restless souls who live apart from God.

We all need to remember the virgin and the Child…

Revive, O Lord, the rock of faith that’s been so long exiled.

Maude Carolan Pych

An Invitation

I've been invited back to be the featured poet at a special holiday event at the Ant Bookstore & Cafe, 345 Clifton Ave., Clifton, NJ, Saturday, December 19th, 7 p.m. It will be an evening of poetry, music and Christmas cookies...

Come join us!

One Thanksgiving Remembered

I'm taking a little walk down Memory Lane. It's 18 years ago. It's before Leo passed away, and before any of my darling grandchildren are born. That year we gathered at my home in Totowa, NJ. This Thanksgiving Day we will gather at Kristin & Randy's lovely home in Manasquan. Some of the faces around the table will be different than they were back in 1997, but the family warmth, the giggles, the stories, the over-full tummies and the abundance of God's blessings to us remain very much the same. We are a blessed family, indeed! Thank You, Jesus!

Happy Thanksgiving Day to all...

Photo Credit: praisehuston.hellobeautiful.com

THANKSGIVING CO-OPERATIVE

1997—

Leo and I hosted Thanksgiving this year at our home in Totowa

in our compact dining room, which we made smaller

through poor planning of our home renovations

(We recently bought a smaller dining room table

and smaller, armless chairs to provide a bit more room

to maneuver, which is a huge help!)

Actually, this turned out to be one of our smoothest running feasts

attributable in part, no doubt, to years of experience

but even more attributable to good cooperation by all

I took a vacation day the day before

and got an early start house cleaning, then began

simmering cranberries and marinating mushrooms

Beth came in the evening. She peeled potatoes, stuffed dates

and worked on a new recipe, onions braised in honey and wine

Kristin arrived early Thanksgiving Day

and created a superb antipasto masterpiece

The night before my sister and Carrie spent making desserts

They baked pumpkin, apple and chocolate cream pies

and made a pumpkin bread, besides

I think they told the truth when they said

Uncle Ricky baked the chocolate pecan pie himself, but

I wouldn’t bet money on it. It was awesome! Awesome!

Carol said she stayed up until 2 a.m. keeping watch

over the hot pies cooling on their back deck

to make sure raccoons didn’t dive into our holiday goodies!

The escarole soup, the turkey and all the veggies were

(wonder of wonders!) ready on schedule

Rick, carved the bird and opened the wine

(once we found a corkscrew)

Leo led the blessing and we each

mentioned something we were specifically thankful for

then all partook (of more than we should have!) of course

Leo stationed himself at the sink (What a guy!)

and in between courses, Evert suggested

playing board games in the living room

There was Trivial Pursuit and Scrabble

I had to break a deadlock between my daughters

over whether hyphenated words are allowed

which we determined are not

since there are no Scrabble hyphen tiles. Sorry, Kristin!

Richie and Carrie are old enough now to fully take part

so there was much giggling, chatter and good natured teasing

Everyone took turns clearing away plates

The girls helped put up the leftovers

(and made packages to take home)

Carol carved the rest of the meat off the turkey...bless her heart!

Later, I brought out the old family photo albums

and we squeezed around the dining room table

trying to figure out who was who, especially

in the black and white photos from the 20’s and 30’s!

Aunt Carol Harris called from Florida to say she loved everyone

Frank called twice (We missed our brother.

He was with Ana’s family, at an even bigger feast for thirty!)

We sent and received e-mails from Leo’s daughters in North Carolina

and warm thoughts sailed across the miles and sea

to his sons in Florida and Germany

We also thought about Kevin in Amsterdam

who celebrated his Thanksgiving alone at a Burger King

and Michael in California and Donna and her family

(who we hoped would join us, at least for dessert)

She was spending the holiday with family in Pennsylvania

We wished everyone could have been with us

crowded into our cozy house around our dining and kitchen tables

but those were impossible wishes...                                                   

nevertheless, we were wonderfully full and very happy

and supremely thankful for all our blessings—

Maude Carolan

 

Remembering Richard Wurmbrand

Rev. Richard Wurmbrand

PHILIPPIANS 4:4

Written after hearing Richard Wurmbrand speak at Beth Israel Messianic Center, then in Garfield, NJ, in the spring of `93.  Born Jewish, he was born again as a young man and became a Lutheran minister.  He was persecuted in Communist prisons for 14 years for underground Christian activities in Rumania. Pastor Wurmbrand was the author of "Tortured For Christ" and founder of "Voice of the Martyrs." He died February 17, 2001.

The prisoners rejoiced,

singing, jangling,

wrists bound in iron chains,

hungry, shivering

in one dismal cellblock

somewhere in Rumania

between 1948 and `62.

Bound in shackles

but spirits free

and hearts jubilant,

like thorn birds

their voices

pierced the wretchedness

with a laser of unearthly joy.

“Praise God for providing

musical instruments,”

cling-clang, cling-clang!

“Praise Him for this crust,

a blanket, a bucket,”

cling-clang, cling-clang!

“Praise for our dear families

unseen for years,”

cling-cling-clang!

“Praise for fellowship

in midst of persecution,”

cling-clang, cling-clang!

There were days

without bread

when they partook

the Lord’s Supper

without elements,

but most solemn reverence.

Many years later,

after release,

the echo of chains

may have been

the loveliest music

their hearts ever heard.

In reverie,

the Body and Blood

without bread and wine

may have been

the sweetest Communion

of their lives.

Maude Carolan

Would you like to learn more about Rev. Richard Wurmbrand? Click on the following link: www.persecution.com/public/ourfounders.aspx

Dancing with the Bridegroom

Photo Credit: worshippinggodwithallmyart.blogspot.com

KODESH L' ADONAI

Holy Unto The Lord

Dance

      dance    dance   

           Dance          dance 

Joanne's snowy garlanded hair

and white gown

     flow

with music

movement and grace

Her gestures      Holy

the Spirit

         internal

Arms raised high in praise

her tambourine

     tinkles

its streaming

silvery ribbon strands

     glisten

          in the Sanctuary

She leaps     she bows

visage, enraptured

her eyes seem to see

what her heart

sees            Wondrous

her Bridegroom

Yeshua…

Once I danced

for The Lord, she says

I could no longer dance

in a secular manner

so we watch, prayerful

She whirls

     she worships

        in the     Dance Sacred

the dance         dance

           Dance

                      Dance…

Maude Carolan


Joanne Connelly is the gifted leader of the "Kodesh L' Adonai" worship dance ministry at Beth Israel Worship Center, Wayne, New Jersey.


SAVE THE DATE: I have been invited to return to perform another Holiday Poetry Reading at the Ant Bookstore & Cafe, 345 Clifton Avenue, Clifton, NJ. Saturday, December 19, at 7 p.m. There will also be special music and Christmas cookies. Come, enjoy & say "hello".