Children's Christmas Poem: "Dear Santa ..."

Santa Checking his List ...

Here we are, with three weeks left until Christmas and yet it has been here since Halloween ...

Will Christmas and everything surrounding it be stale for children by the 25th of December?

As I was out grocery shopping the other day, I was hit by the sheer commercialism Christmas has become.

How sad for the children. Can they still believe in Christmas when they've had trees, lights, sales, decorations, and Santas everywhere for two long months? How can they remain excited?  Where has all the magic gone?

It was so much simpler for children years ago, when the Christmas season didn't actually arrive until around December 1.

The excitement built in a steady crescendo:  school vacation, snow and sledding, to the magical Christmas Eve, with the reading of "The Night Before Christmas", hanging stockings, and setting out the traditional cookies and milk for Santa ... oh, and I almost forgot!  A plate of carrots for the reindeer.

I remember being urged at the beginning of December to make my wish list and Mama would send it to Santa at the North Pole. Then as a family, we would begin shopping for gifts.

I remember the whole family would pile in the station wagon to head to the woods so we could cut down our tree -- and everyone helped to decorate it, because there were ONLY a couple of weeks left until Christmas.

There was never time for Christmas to become stale. Heck, we always had just enough time to get everything done ... if we hurried.

I dedicate this poem to children who wonder about the commercialism and who still think of others first ...

Dear Santa ...

by CJ Heck

Dear Santa,
You always bring me many things,
my little sister, too,
things we love to play with,
so many things to do.

I see you in big limos
waving at us in parades.
I see you in the shopping malls
and even in arcades.

I see you on the corners
where you're ringing little bells.
I see you talking on TV
advertising big hotels.

It makes me start to wonder
if you're really, really there,
or are you just too busy now
with all those things to care?

See, I have a best friend, Tommy,
and I'm sending his address,
so this year you won't miss his house,
'cause Tommy, he's the best.

Please, Santa, take some time off
from those other things you do
and this year visit Tommy's house?
He needs some presents, too.


[From the book, "Barking Spiders and Other Such Stuff", by CJ Heck]

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Christmas Short Story: "Christmas at Mel's"

Mel's

by CJ Heck

"How beautiful a day can be when kindness touches it." ~George Elliston

A broken neon sign flashed "Mel’s" on top of a small seedy bar on the edge of town.

The air inside was heavy with stale smoke and beer, blending faintly with the odor of dried spit on unclean bodies.

Sadie sat at a small table alone pondering the world and its problems, two drinks past actually seeing beyond the unkempt nails she drummed nervously on the chipped Formica in front of her. The lines in her face were knit as if by a palsied hand dropping stitches here and there, where a pox scar decided to roost.

For Sadie, this was home -- at least until tonight’s john, (with an empty glass and full libido), swaggered up and invited her to the nearest no-tell motel.

Life sucks -- but it was her life.

Feeling in control, a spider in her web, Sadie threw back another drink and waited.

The hours passed and Sadie slumped in the chair at her favorite table at Mel's.

Sadie

With each drink, the world's problems faded further and she was finally only mildly aware that she had more than enough of her own.

Merry Christmas. Yeah, yeah, so what? Sadie asked indignantly, as she counted the empty glasses lined up in front of her on the table.

Seven. Nice. Rhymes with heaven. How 'bout that -- as if I'll ever be there.  They prob'ly don't let people like me in a ritzy place like that.

Sadie pushed the thought away as she studied the half empty glass that was still in her hand with the same intensity a demented gypsy might, upon watching her favorite crystal ball suddenly deflate.

It was late and she was tired.  The lines in her face met in an intricate pattern just above her penciled brows as she pondered her situation through the booze fog.

Damn Mel -- and damn his twinkle lights. The damn things hurt my eyes. Friggin' barkeep had to put twinkle lights in here, as if anyone wants to see the graffiti better, she cackled to herself.

Sadie watched as the room with its new holiday lights blinked first red, then green, then yellow through the gently swirling smoke.

She threw back the rest of her drink. It made her want to puke, that's what it did. Who the hell cares if it's Christmas Eve?  Every day's the same to me, she thought. I'm just a workin' girl tryin' to make a buck.

Bad enough, everywhere you go, bells are ringin' on every corner, music blastin' outta radios, snow and slush in every step you take, and all that fancy decoratin' to remind you, you're friggin' alone.

Merry Christmas ... yeah, Mer-ry Christ-my-ass!  Cash registers are ringin' big time, too, Sadie thought, with a bitter smile.

Damn, business was slow this time of year. Every john she knew was prob'ly home playing Santy Claus with the kiddies and Husband Of The Year with the wife. What a joke, she thought.

What they really want, I give 'em.  What they really need, I give 'em. They're all the same. What a friggin' joke, she thought ... yeah, only the joke's on me.  I'm the one sittin' and waitin' in a blinkin-stinkin' hellhole by m'self.

Sadie set empty glass number eight at the end of the line on the table and raised a finger at the barkeep for another. Waiting was a bitch.

Just then, a shadow fell through the swirling smoke to settle eerily on Sadie's table. It was strangely blinking in mixed colors through the empty glasses in front of her.

Surprised, she looked up to see one of her regulars standing there. (Finally, she thought to herself, and 'bout time, too). Already a plan had formed in her mind to do him fast and then get some shut-eye. She gave the john her best crimson smile.

The man leaned down, handed Sadie a folded bill, and with a sad smile he said, "Go home, Sadie. This one's on me, and ... and well, M-Merry Christmas to you."

Then he turned and walked back through the swirled, blinking smoke to the door and the street beyond, with Sadie staring slack-jawed at the door closing slowly behind him.

Damn, if that don't beat all, Sadie thought, as she unfolded the fifty dollar bill.

Then she scooted her chair back, pushed herself away from the table, and for the first time in years, Sadie's face softened into a genuine smile.


(From the Book, "Bits and Pieces", by CJ Heck)



“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Ben Stein's Commentary on Christmas

Ben Stein

Apparently the White House referred to Christmas Trees as "Holiday" Trees for the first time this year, which prompted CBS presenter, Ben Stein, to present this piece which I would like to share with you.

The following was written by Ben Stein and recited by him on CBS Sunday Morning Commentary:



My confession:

I am a Jew, and every single one of my ancestors was Jewish. And it does not bother me even a little bit when people call those beautiful lit up, bejewelled trees, Christmas trees. I don't feel threatened. I don't feel discriminated against. That's what they are, Christmas trees.

It doesn't bother me a bit when people say, 'Merry Christmas' to me. I don't think they are slighting me or getting ready to put me in a ghetto. In fact, I kind of like it. It shows that we are all brothers and sisters celebrating this happy time of year. It doesn't bother me at all that there is a manger scene on display at a key intersection near my beach house in Malibu. If people want a nativity scene, it's just as fine with me as is the Menorah a few hundred yards away.

I don't like getting pushed around for being a Jew, and I don't think Christians like getting pushed around for being Christians. I think people who believe in God are sick and tired of getting pushed around, period. I have no idea where the concept came from, that America is an explicitly atheist country. I can't find it in the Constitution and I don't like it being shoved down my throat.

Or maybe I can put it another way: where did the idea come from that we should worship celebrities and we aren't allowed to worship God? I guess that's a sign that I'm getting old, too. But there are a lot of us who are wondering where these celebrities came from and where the America we knew went to.

In light of the many jokes we send to one another for a laugh, this is a little different: This is not intended to be a joke; it's not funny, it's intended to get you thinking.

Billy Graham's daughter was interviewed on the Early Show and Jane Clayson asked her, 'How could God let something like this happen?' (regarding Hurricane Katrina).

Anne Graham gave an extremely profound and insightful response. She said, 'I believe God is deeply saddened by this, just as we are, but for years we've been telling God to get out of our schools, to get out of our government and to get out of our lives.And being the gentleman He is, I believe He has calmly backed out. How can we expect God to give us His blessing and His protection if we demand He leave us alone?'

In light of recent events... terrorist attacks, school shootings, etc. I think it started when Madeleine Murray O'Hare (she was murdered, her body found a few years ago) complained she didn't want prayer in our schools, and we said OK. Then someone said you better not read the Bible in school. The Bible says thou shalt not kill; thou shalt not steal, and love your neighbor as yourself. And we said OK.

Then Dr. Benjamin Spock said we shouldn't spank our children when they misbehave, because their little personalities would be warped and we might damage their self-esteem (Dr. Spock's son committed suicide). We said an expert should know what he's talking about. And we said okay.

Now we're asking ourselves why our children have no conscience, why they don't know right from wrong, and why it doesn't bother them to kill strangers, their classmates, and themselves.

Probably, if we think about it long and hard enough, we can figure it out. I think it has a great deal to do with 'WE REAP WHAT WE SOW.'

Funny how simple it is for people to trash God and then wonder why the world's going to hell.

Funny how we believe what the newspapers say, but question what the Bible says.

Funny how you can send 'jokes' through e-mail and they spread like wildfire, but when you start sending messages regarding the Lord, people think twice about sharing.

Funny how lewd, crude, vulgar and obscene articles pass freely through cyberspace, but public discussion of God is suppressed in the school and workplace.

[Are you laughing yet?]

Funny how when you forward this message, you will not send it to many on your address list because you're not sure what they believe, or what they will think of you for sending it.

Funny how we can be more worried about what other people think of us than what God thinks of us.

Pass it on if you think it has merit.

If not, then just discard it.... no one will know you did. But, if you discard this thought process, don't sit back and complain about what a bad shape the world is in.

My Best Regards, Honestly and respectfully,
Ben Stein

[I couldn't agree more, Ben Stein.  Thank you! ~CJ Heck]



“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Christmas - An "Over" Time...

Christmas "Over" Time ...

I've found that time has a way of getting away from me, the older I get.

It seems like only yesterday I carefully packed away the Christmas ornaments and decorations, the outside wreaths, and swept up the last of the pine needles.

Is it just me, or do you feel it, too?

I've only just turned the calendar page to December and yesterday I saw Santa Claus in front of the grocery, houses with outdoor Christmas lights ... and Robert and I still have pumpkin pie from Thanksgiving in our fridge.

I don't know.  These last few years, the Christmas season seems to arrive on, or about, the day after Halloween.

It's almost scary how the malls put up their Christmas lights and decorations increasingly early to entice us, knowing full well our propensity for holiday nostalgia and overindulgence.  The stores all order abundantly, striving for hefty holiday sales -- and an even heftier bottom line at year’s end.

It's sad that Christmas has become such an “over” time. We over-spend, over-eat, over-party, and end up trying to fit God -- the reason there IS Christmas -- in between over-abundant holiday schedules and over-long gift lists.

Seems the only thing we don’t overdo is helping the less fortunate by dropping a few extra coins in the bucket when we see Santa’s helpers ringing bells around town.

Please don’t misunderstand. Anyone who knows me, knows Christmas is my favorite time of year. I get all swept up in the nostalgia and the warm and fuzzies -- I just can’t help myself.

Every year, I watch the classic Christmas movies.  I cry as I watch The Gathering.  I laugh (until I cry) at Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation, and I think Barbara Stanwyck is hilarious in Christmas in Connecticut.  We all love Jimmy Stewart in It‘s a Wonderful Life, and Christmas just wouldn’t be complete without Irving Berlin’s White Christmas. 

However, this year, I vow to try even harder to remember and celebrate Christmas for it’s true meaning.

I’m going to focus my ‘over’ time on the people I care most about, those who care most about me, and those who have never had a visit from Santa Claus.

Oh, and the only bottom line I’m going to be concerned with is the one I sit on ... and I sure as heck don’t want that one to get any bigger ...


“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Conversations with the Past: by John D. L. Brooke

John David Lionel Brooke

Conversations with the Past

by John David Lionel Brooke

Time - dotted with the connect the dots
Of events, and actions, and crisscrossed space
Each tiny fragment of an instant lingering
Like a hole

- or a kiss

Imprints on the mantel of life, reflecting back
The feelings and passions and hopes of lost moments
Where we moved on and something else moved in
Like a thief

- or a vision

Interconnection of living breathing matter
We revolve around each other - thinking only ourself
Egocentric and strange and important and meaningful
Like a Pulitzer

- or Nobel Prize

Here in the quiet webs of us we feel the vibrations
And sensations of long lost happenings that still
Cause panging and desire and regret and sorrow
Like a sin

- or a smile

We sit in the dark having conversations with the past
Social in every way but reality - and we listen
To lessons that at the time we were too deaf to hear
Like those from parents

- or children

We look back to each junction of streaming lines
We trace the static realism and dynamic repercussions
We think back to smiles, tears, soft voices and hard
Like sand

- or screams

Our conversations with the past are so often one-sided
No other blimp on our chronology seems to care
So we reflect on our own thoughts - try to find sense
Like school

- or religion

We find answers that only stick to our own reason
We answer questions that nobody else knows or hears
We find truths that never last in the real world
Like faith

- or science

Perpetual repetition - doomed to repeat history
Forever and ever in the hell of a mind rent by regret
And the conversations with the past are hollow
Like wood

- or souls

Do we learn from this?
Or drive ourselves to the brink of loss?

Do we ascend to new heights from this?
Or do we sink under the weight of history?

Do we continue this?
Or are we doomed to talk over finished moments?

Conversations with the past - lessons in reverse
And we find ourselves still talking in black rooms

- To ourselves.

John, the Author and Poet

About the Author

John David Lionel Brooke an expat Canadian who lives a simple, happy life by the Sea of Cortez, in Baja California Sur, Mexico.

"MOTHER LODE" is the first memoir in a trilogy. It follows his hazardious tongue-tied childhood up to his fateful marriage. 

His second novel in the trilogy, "SHUT UP MOTHER", follows his haunted journey into adulthood. 

"MY MAD MOTHER", the final work, follows soul searching battles as he journeys to reach the fulfillment of his life. He ruminates on historical evidence that may answer why his Mother became "mad". 

His books are all available in eBook and Paperback formats at Amazon.

In addition to writing novels, John writes poetry, prose, flash fiction, drabbles, articles, and short stories. His work has appeared in many publications online and in print. 

His published 3 chapbooks are also available on Amazon. "INTO PURE BLUE AIR," "PONDERING IMPONDERABLES" and "SPARKLES."

He reads therefore he writes.

John's Books:

My Mad Mother
Mother Lode
Shut Up Mother
Sparkles
Into Pure Blue Air
Pondering Imponderables

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Who is CJ Heck, Really?

Hi, I'm CJ/

Whether you are an Author, Reader, a Contributing Writer, or a combination, and now My Friend, I thank you.  It's been a pleasure and I'm glad I 'know' you.

Most of you know me as a Blogger. I have three different blogs and I invite articles, short stories and poetry for all of them.

Occasionally, I even write something myself, when I have the time, so you might also know me as a Writer and Poet.

Or maybe I've done some editing for you on an article, a short story, or book, so you know me as a Freelance Editor.

Something else I love to do is help Authors promote their books.  I do that here on CJ's Writer Thoughts, and I also proudly promote books written by Vietnam veterans on my other blog, Memoirs From Nam.

Authors need all the help they can get -- hiring a Book Publicist is often just too expensive and not something that fits into most budgets. As a senior citizen, that's true for me, as well.

Now, that being said ....

Every so often, I like to remind everyone that I Am Also An Author ... I've written three books for children and two for adults.

Children’s Books:  

Barking Spiders and Other Such Stuff
(The first book, published in 2000)

Midwest Book Review:
child's perspective. Often funny, sometimes introspective, always honest, these poems form a brilliant introduction for young readers to the magic of poetry and rhyme."

OHIOana Quarterly:
"If children could write poetry about the things in their lives, it might not sound like these poems ... but the feelings they experience are sure to be familiar, as they listen to or read this collection. Insights and thoughts about belly buttons, toe jam, Bandaids, and passing gas will cause chuckles from young readers and their parents." (Barbara Maslekoff)

Poetry Today Online:
"Well, it's time for a little fun, folks. Put away all those boring grownup books and let's sit down and read Barking Spiders and Other Such Stuff. This is CJ Heck's first book of children's poetry and it is a delight!"

Read a Preview

Buy at Amazon

Barking Spiders 2 

(the sequel book to Barking Spiders)

Nominated for the 2011 Cybils Children's Book Award in Poetry 

In this long-awaited sequel to her first Barking Spiders book, CJ Heck continues her journey to help children experience life through poetry with her unique blend of humor, insight, sensitivity, and with an understanding that, like adults, children wish to make sense of the world they live in. 

And when it still doesn't make sense? Well, she helps them see that's okay, too, because it doesn't always make sense.

Read a Preview

Buy at Amazon

Me Too! Preschool Poetry
(Poetry for the little ones, to get them started)

Preschool: that brief period of childhood when everything is either black, or white, a time of Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, and the grey area in between black and white hasn't yet begun. 

It's the last true age of innocence, when mommy and daddy are the good guys, pretending is a profession, and bugs are just tiny friends. 

Wouldn't it be fun to have a grownup friend who understands, someone to say it's okay if the world doesn't always make sense? CJ Heck is that grownup friend. She's been entertaining children and grownups with her poetry since 1999 through her website, and then with the release of her first book "Barking Spiders (and Other Such Stuff)" in 2000. 

Sit back, get comfy, and read "Me Too!" with a child-- it's time to get back in touch with your own inner child again and remember, remember, remember ...

Read a Preview

Buy at Amazon 


Comments:

"You are one of the most gifted children's poets I have ever read!"
~ Todd-Michael St. Pierre 

"CJ, You are every primary teachers dream come true. I have found that rhyming words are important for six year olds when learning to spell and read. I love your poetry! You never cease to amaze me."
~Joyce Bowling 

"How I would have loved to have been a child in your world. Excellent doesn't even come close ..."
~Georg Mateos 

"CJ, your work is not only brilliant, it is a joy to the spirit and restores youth to our hearts. You have a gift for writing what kids think and feel. Thank you CJ."
~ E T Waldron 

"CJ, You fly everyone away on daydreams and wishes, boo-boos and bats, frog legs and monkeys, and old circus clowns. I can't think of a single children's poet(and I've read a few) that has the ability to marry the children's poem with a life's lesson like you do and keep it fun. You need to go on Oprah. Yes, my dear, CJ, you fly."
~Rusty Daily 

"I love your childrens poetry. It's like you revert to the child you're writing about. Sometimes I wish I could go back and make it all different. Your poems help me see what I missed. "
~K. Mulroney 

"My dear CJ, you have a heart of innocence in your adorable, creative writes!"
~Karla Dorman 

"Your work reminds me of Dr. Suess, sincerely. "
~Andy Turner 

"There is a sweet child residing in your heart."
~Victor Buhagiar 

"What a uniquely sensitive mind you have, CJ. The children must adore your writes. I know I sure do."
~Richard Cederberg 

"I love how you get into a child's heart with your writing, CJ."
~Sheila G. 

"You teach simple truths in such a childlike manner. They are delightful to read."
~J.M. 

"Your children's poem, To A Baby Firefly, is a winner nursery rhyme and it belongs in the classic children's bedtime story books."
~Gloria Buono Daly 

"You make me wish I was a kid again."
~Brett Moore 

"Your inner child always shines through in your work."
~Joseph OneLight

Adult Books:  

Anatomy of a Poet

(Poetry for Grownups)

The Story Behind the Book:

"There is a brokenness out of which comes the unbroken. There is a shatteredness out of which blooms the unshatterable. There is a sorrow beyond all grief, which leads to joy. And a fragility out of whose depths emerges strength. There is a hollow space too vast for words through which we pass with each loss, out of whose darkness we are sanctioned into being." ~ Bri Maya Tiwari

That quote describes not only my life, but the poetry in "Anatomy of a Poet".

One of six children, I grew up in a small Ohio town and married my high school sweetheart at nineteen. A Vietnam War widow at twenty, I went on to marry twice more. I made a lot of choices, some good, some not so good, but as my poem, "Choices", ends,

"... at least I made choices. How sad for those who merely hitchhike along, never daring to choose at all."

"Anatomy of a Poet" was written over a period of nearly forty years. The poetry is rich with memoir, humor and, at times, it is sensual in nature.

Read a Preview
Buy at Amazon


Comments:

"I have known C.J. Heck as an very talented author for well over a year now. Her words are enlightening and charismatic to people of all ages. It has been a privilege and honor knowing her and reading her prolific pen. I highly recommend her work to all."
~Janet Caldwell (COO Inner Child Press) 

"Your poems are a breath of fresh air."
~John Domino 

"I purchased Anatomy of a Poet today...I could hardly put it down! The poetry is filled with a pleasant mix of emotions. I encourage everyone to buy this book. Love it!"
~Joyce Bowling 

"CJ, I thoroughly enjoyed your book! Too often poetry is written so abstractly that it leaves the reader with more questions as to the point of the writing, rather than the insight, or inspiration. This is NOT true of your poetic verses. Your words are indeed poignant, resonating feelings to the reader intended by you, the writer. Words from the heart that penetrate the soul!"
~Sharla Shultz 

"You are one talented writer."
~Lynn Barry 

"I am not a poetry critic, so I cannot compare CJ's poetry with others, evaluate her mastery of the language use, or classify her to any particular school of poetry. But having read the poems I felt something. The messages she conveys are clear and direct. She does not go through mental elaboration and her poetry touches the heart. Reading her poems made me feel nostalgic and longing at the same time -- as if nostalgia and expectation are one and the same."
~Eleftheria Egel 

"My kind of poetry ... wonderful, marvelous poetry that touches on the realities of life."
~Jack Henry Kraven 

"This is my kind of poetry. Direct, beautifully expressed and without a hint of pretension."
~Allison Cassidy 

"CJ, you have a beautiful way of writing that obviously can get in touch with people and provoke them to think about what you are saying, which is a very difficult skill to grasp. Congratulations on the amazing work."
~Lyrael Myrna 

"CJ is predominately viewed as a writer of works for children, but CJ now carries over her approach to more adult themes. In doing so, she presents a profound world that is deeply sad, incredibly humorous and sometimes intimate."
~Joseph Daly

Bits and Pieces from a Writer's Soul
(A Collection of 22 Short Stories and Flash Fiction)

Publisher's Review:

"A collection of twenty short, and flash fiction stories by published poet, writer, blogger and author, CJ Heck. 

She's been entertaining children, adults, and schools for over a decade with her humor, insight, unique perspective of life, and the human heart, through her poetry. Now, she does it again through her fiction.

Many of the stories have nostalgic themes, others, CJ's own special blend of humor and sensitivity. Covered are many subjects, such as, finding a headless body near a sewer drain in the city, internet dating, and a grandfather and grandson teaching each other about life and love, while feeding pigeons in the park. One of CJ's personal favorites has a surprise ending, one you won't expect."

Read an Excerpt
Buy at Amazon

Comments:

"CJ's writing ability is a testament to talent and passion. Her ability to craft words into emotion and movement is remarkable."
~Lexy Page (Owner/Freelance Photographer at GA Page Photography) 

"CJ is a writer that comes through as a great communicator but you also have a strong feeling of friendship with her and her pen. She touches your heart in special ways. She makes you feel like you have lived this story."
~James McCraney (Owner, James McCraney Financial, LLC) 

"I loved this book. These are a very clean short stories of a few pages each. When finished, I felt like I knew the writer as if she was a relative or a neighbor, definitely one that I would like to see often. She has a knack for pouring out her soul on paper and it makes you feel as if you have known her for a long time. I would love to meet her in person some day."
~Susan East 

"Might I bow to you in respect for the abilities your pen contains."
~Phillip William Allen 

"CJ, what a gift you have. Every word imparts a vivid image that fills the hearts and souls of your readers with a remembering. Yes, it's the littlest moments that you paint so well and spell out with glowing simplicity."
~Adryan Rotica 

"CJ, You write so well. You are an ispiration."
~Laura Mayer 

"You will enjoy the eclectic stories in "Bits and Pieces" displaying CJ's vivid and wide-ranging imagination. Writers, like CJ Heck, should be allowed to live one hundred fifty years. How else could they reveal all they have to offer? 

Do yourself a favor and read all of CJ's work. She is at the peak of a mountain of talented writers. She writes to the souls of all men, women, and children."
~ Russell Daily 

"You are such a natural and spontaneous writer, who freely gives of her soul to her readers. You never fail to amuse and entertain with your brilliant and witty writes. You have a razor sharp mind and acute awareness of what makes people tick, or tock."
~ Peter Paton 

"Amazing talent."
~Kimmy Van Kooten 

"An incredible writer."
~Rhonda Galizia

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Short Story: The Christmas Miracle

Walking the Tracks

by CJ Heck

It was late December, during what would someday be called, "The Great Depression".

The blizzard had begun last night just after supper with misleading flurries.

Now, in the early hours before dawn, it was snowing like a son-of-a-bitch and piling up fast.

Jake Simons pulled his coat collar up as high as it would go, hoping to shrink the opening so it was less inviting to wayward flakes. "Never mind," he thought with a sigh, "just never you mind. It's winter and it's snowing. It is what it is."

This morning, like every winter morning, snow or no snow, Jake walked the tracks, picking up rogue coal that had escaped from railroad cars as they bounced along the tracks. Coal couldn't buy food, but each shiny black nugget was precious and went a long way to keep his family warm.

These were tough times. The snow only served to punctuate just how bad things were -- and how much worse they could still get.

Jake plodded on, pushing the snow aside with his foot. Coal was already nearly impossible to see in the dark and the falling snow made it even harder to find. With each step, he grew more despondent, knowing his pockets were nearly empty and probably would stay that way.

How in the world had things ever gotten so bad?

There were few jobs

Only days before Christmas, Jake still hadn't found any work. "Children shouldn't have to grow up this fast." Jake said aloud into the darkness, the wind gobbling each word as it was spoken.

"In their innocent dreams, Santa is alive and well in the North Pole and his elves are busy making toys to deliver in a sleigh on Christmas Eve -- even now in the worst of times."

Jake's Wife and little Sarah

Max, Jake's oldest, delivered groceries and stocked shelves for Burt down at the market on Tuesdays. Their middle child, Tommy, had a paper route. Even his wife worked one day a week cleaning for the Parkers. 

Jeb Parker owned the mill. He did what he could, hiring men for a day here, a day there, but few could afford what the mill produced, so even Jeb was on hard times.

And Sarah, sweet little Sarah. She was only two years old. Hardship was all she had ever known. How he wished he could make everything better for her -- for all of them.

Hours later, Jake had reached his lowest point yet. It was dark again and snowing even harder, if that was possible.

All day, Jake had stood in line for the few jobs that were available -- there were always more men than jobs, and he was not one of the chosen.

Overcome by exhaustion and grief, he sat down hard on the curb, his feet planted in the frozen slush. With his head in his hands, Jake's spirit was broken and he finally recognized complete and utter defeat and a growing resolve to end it all. 

Quiet Desperation

Blinking through tears, he prayed for his immortal soul. "God, please forgive me. To those I love, I'm worth more dead, than alive. Please give me the courage to do what I have to do."

Then, pointing his revolver at the roof of his mouth, he humbly lowered his head.

That's when he noticed something sticking out of the slush between his feet.

He lowered the gun and placed it on the curb beside him. 

In quiet disbelief, he slowly reached down to uncover a soggy, crumpled fifty dollar bill.

His prayer had been answered.

“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck

Children's Poems: For Bedtime

Angel Sleeping

There are angels all around us, complete with halos and wings. If you don't believe what I tell you, go into a child's bedroom and watch them sleep ... ~CJ Heck

Sleepytime Prayer

by CJ Heck

God bless my bedroom.
God bless my bed.
God bless the pillow
where I lay my head.

God bless my mommy.
Bless my dad, too.
They chase away monsters
that live in my room.

God bless my brother.
Bless my dog and my cat,
and, OK, my sister,
(even though she's a brat).

Thanks God, and Amen.
Now, up off my knees.
Wait! I forgot something.
God bless me, too, please.


("Sleepytime Prayer" from the book, "Barking Spiders 2 (sequel)", by CJ Heck)

More Poems from the Book

Bedtime Prayer

by CJ Heck

Now I lay me down in bed.
All my prayers and night-nights said.

Snuggle bunny, teddy bear,
toasty blankie, all are here.

Out with the light
so dreams will come.

Thank you, God.
Now ... where's my thumb?
(Night-Night)


("Bedtime Prayer" from the book, "Me Too Preschool Poetry", by CJ Heck)

More Poems from the Book

Night-Night

by CJ Heck

Night-night moon.
Night-night stars.
Night-night noisy
trucks and cars.

Night-night sand box.
Night-night toys.
Night-night other
girls and boys.

Night-night mom.
Night-night dad.
Night-night Boogie Man
who's not bad.

It's time to go to sleep now,
most all my night nights said.
Night-night blankie.
Night-night bed.


["Night-Night" from the book, "Barking Spiders and Other Such Stuff", by CJ Heck)

More Poems from the Book






“A writer soon learns that easy to read is hard to write.” ~CJ Heck