I love the traditions surrounding the Christmas season, whether it’s caroling with friends, wrapping paper fights with the cousins (yes, really), or attending the candlelight Christmas Eve service at church. I also love the memories attached to all of those traditions. These memories aren’t what make Christmas so special, but they certainly add something to the season of joy, don’t they? That’s why, each Monday until Christmas, I’ll be posting an old Christmas poem of mine.They were all written before I ever studied poetry, but maybe that’s why I like them so much. When these were written, it wasn’t about form, or style, or tone, or meter. It was all about Christmas and what the holiday—the Holy Day—means to me.
This first selection is called “The Shepherds’ Story,” and it was written during the 2008 Christmas season, when I was sixteen.
I’m so excited to be celebrating this season!
In His love,
The Shepherds’ Story
Anna Schaeffer, 2008
Shepherds amidst the craggy rocks
watching o’er their shaggy flocks.
An angel in the sky appears,
beckoning them to draw near.
“Glory! Good news! Hope has come!
God has sent His only Son!
In a manger filled with straw and hay,
you will find the Savoir, the Christ, born today!”
Although the shepherds shook with fright,
they did not hesitate to go that night.
Just as the heavenly angel had said,
they found the Christ Child in a makeshift bed.
They knelt down to bow at his tiny feet,
then the wonderful story they did repeat.
They spread the news to all who would hear,
telling everyone both far and near.
Today as we ponder the story they told,
we must never let the miraculous tale grow old.
Remember not only a babe as we sing,
but remember the Savior who is our King.