Wednesday, January 23, 2019

Green Beans: The Story of Vegetables in a Plastic Plate

The day my baby brother was born,
I ate green beans from a plastic plate.
It was covered in tin foil wrap.
July 24, 1980 was the summertime date. 
My grandparents cooked vegetable soup,
And it sat in the middle of the kitchen table.
It looked quite gross in the glass jar,
And my stomach felt upset and unstable.
But the neighbor brought green beans,
Wondering when my brother would be home.
My third birthday was two days later,
And I had “Happy Birthday” July syndrome.
With balloons and streamers and chocolate milk,
We played many rounds of “Duck, Duck Goose.”
On the orange-checkered kitchen carpet,
We ate a train cake with a candy caboose.
But my brother wasn’t home yet,
So I opened my gifts and waited for my mom. 
My dad burned the cheese sandwiches,
And I tried my very best to stay calm. 
When my baby brother finally came home, 
He looked so tiny and incredibly small,
But he never stayed in the crib alone. 
He climbed from his bed and up the wall. 
And as he got older, he ate down the house. 
He loved ice cream, desserts, and special cuisine.  
He liked pepperoni pizza and Stromboli wraps, 
But his favorite food of all was green beans. 

Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters

Musical Chairs: The Story of the Last Person Standing

Fourteen chairs in a circle

Give you each a place to sit,

But if we take a chair away, 

One of you must quit. 

Eliminate a musical chair

And eliminate a person.  

Music plays with the game, 

But each round makes it worsen. 

Why don’t you shuffle here?

And then you can shuffle there?

If you take my seat from me, 

It doesn’t seem quite fair. 

The last person standing 

Is the winner of the game, 

Or everyone could sit on the chair,

And nobody loses all the same. 

 

Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters

Friday, January 4, 2019

Raccoon Danger: The Story of a Night Creature

Most people think the daylight sun is the best, 
But Raccoon Danger loves the night, not a bit of rest. 
He scurries through the bushes and looks at the moon. 
He wears a black mask and likes to sing and croon. 
Underneath the starry, starry never-ending sky, 
He feels the safest in the night, and I know why. 
The night has a beauty that the day cannot hold.
Its poetry is extensive, and its paintings are bold. 
The planets come out like a connect-the-dots game. 
Ride a shooting star like a bright beaming flame. 
Have a snack or two underneath the dark yonder. 
Almost like Raccoon Danger, let your heart wander. 
The night will greet you well, just as the day, 
And you won’t be in danger, no matter what people say. 

Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters

Thursday, December 6, 2018

The Ugliest Christmas Sweater in the World: The Story of Fashion Gone Bad at the Holidays

If you’ve ever had an ugly Christmas sweater, 
Then, you know you only need one for the better. 
It might have jingles on it with all the bells and whistles,
Or it might be as touchy as prickly holly thistles. 
You usually have socks that match it to a T,
But of course, don’t let anyone fashion-fancy see.
Then, you have gloves that also blend its frosty hues
And a hat that coordinates with snowy freezing dews. 
A reindeer or a Santa or a wreath of red and green
Is on your stomach and always right across your spleen.
Mine is the ugliest Christmas sweater in the world.
I know because I knit it, and I became unfurled, 
But I love it because it keeps me warm at night, 
It makes me think of Christmas when all the world is right. 

Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters

Saturday, December 1, 2018

The Most Silent Night: A Christmas Folktale from Austria

Father Joseph Mohr sat alone in a pew. The quiet of Christmas Eve morning surrounded him at the St. Nicholas Church, the parish church of Oberndorf, Austria. Since the church had been dedicated to the saint, the Catholic priest had always thought his church was special, but this Christmas Eve seemed rather disappointing. As the priest prepared for the upcoming Midnight Mass, he quietly prayed for heavenly peace. He had already finished his homily.

The day before, he had visited a sick child in the countryside. Though an ordinary baby, he reminded Father Joseph of the Christ child. He especially liked the scripture that taught people that whatever you did for one of the least of these then you did for Christ, especially caring for the sick. The innocence of the sick baby’s eyes made him see Jesus on the cold, wintry day. He prayed for healing and asked God to bless the family amid the snowy hillside. 

Now, a day later, when he tried to play his church organ, he discovered a distorted sound came from the instrument. With a closer look behind the organ, it seemed like mice had chewed through the bellows that were used to supply the instrument with wind. 

Although he tried to fix the bellows, the music was stilled. Water from the nearby Salzach River had flooded the church behind the organ and left its parts damaged and coated with ice. The organ was beyond immediate repair.

“How shall we manage now?” Father Joseph said. Memories of past beautiful Christmas services filled his head. If Midnight Mass was without music, he imagined the parishioners’ complaints. “It’s only hours until Christmas Eve service. How will we celebrate Christmas?” 

He returned to his office and looked for rags to clean up the flood water and mice droppings in the sanctuary. Instead, he wished he was playing glorious carols on the organ in honor of the Savior’s birth. He had established a yearly tradition of sharing a new carol. His congregation would be downcast, especially the Strasser family, who were known for singing beautiful harmonies in the community. 

“Maybe if I write a new song, Franz could play the guitar instead of the organ for the Christmas Eve Mass,” he wondered aloud. “Then, I could raise money with the Christmas Eve offering to buy a new organ for the church.”

As he made his way back into his office, he considered the sickly baby he had met just yesterday. He dipped his pen in ink and scribbled lyrics onto a crumpled piece of paper. His hands trembled as he wrote out the words. Excitement stirred inside him.

The words rang true in his heart, even if he feared they might seem too simple to others. He recounted the Christmas story from the Bible with rhyme, and he thought the words would sing well. Inspired by the sick baby, and the loss of the church organ, his lyrics read: 

 

Silent Night

Silent night, holy night, 
All is calm, all is bright. 
Round yon virgin, 

Mother and child. 
Holy infant, so tender and mild.
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Sleep in heavenly peace. 

Silent night, holy night, 
Shepherds quake at the sight; 
Glories stream from heaven afar, 
Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia! 
Christ the Savior is born,
Christ the Savior is born! 

Silent night, holy night, 
Son of God, love's pure light; 
Radiant beams from thy holy face, 
With the dawn of redeeming grace, 
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth, 
Jesus, Lord, at thy birth. 

 

After he finished the lyric, Father Joseph knew that the new song needed music but didn’t think he could finish it in time for midnight service. 

So, Father Joseph hurried to his friend, schoolteacher, organist, and choirmaster, Franz Gruber. Although Franz played the organ for the church, he also played the guitar. Since the organ was broken, he would have to shine on the stringed instrument. 

When Father Joseph arrived at Franz’s home, he brushed the falling snow from his shoulders. He knocked on the door and called “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas to you, my dear friend!” said Franz, as he opened the door. He took Joseph’s coat, hat, and scarf from him and hung them on a hook.

“Can you finish my song before service tonight?” Father Joseph said. “It would be such a Christmas gift! Our organ broke, and I thought you could finish my lyric with something special on the guitar. I can’t do it myself.”

“Right now?” Franz said. “We were about to eat our Christmas Eve dinner!” 

“Pardon me, but . . .” Father Joseph pleaded. “I really need your help.”

“I understand,” Franz said. “All the songs I planned to play on the organ this year will have to be saved for next year.”

Sitting by the fireplace, Franz took the crumpled piece of paper with the scribbled lyric from Joseph. Franz paused, and then, hummed a melody while strumming the guitar. 

Father Joseph thought it sounded like the most peaceful melody that he had ever heard. 

As Father Joseph paced back and forth in Franz’s home, Franz finally finished the music to the lyric. Joseph thought the song was such an answered prayer.

“Do you think it’s too simple?” Franz asked Father Joseph in a moment of doubt. 

“Oh, it’s gorgeous, Franz,” Father Joseph said with a tear in his eye. “The congregation will love it.”

With relief, Father Joseph warmed his hands at the fireplace, put his coat and hat back on, and hurried to the door. He wrapped his scarf around his neck. 

“See you later tonight,” Franz said to him. “We’ll make everything work out somehow.”

Father Joseph walked back to his church singing, “Silent night, holy night . . .” It did seem like a holy night to him despite all the turmoil. 

At the beginning of the Midnight Mass, Father Joseph prayed silently to God, worried that the congregation would reject the new hymn on the guitar. After all, they were expecting to hear the organ at its best. 

At least the church looked gorgeous, decorated in garland and holly wreaths. Candles were stuck in each of the pews for the congregants to light as they worshipped.

As the church members bustled to their seats, they did seem to have a bit of excitement and anticipation of what surprises Christmas might bring them. 

Then, Franz burst in the side door of the church with his guitar and family, ready to play the new hymn. Joseph decided to present the song first, and then give his homily. 

“Merry Christmas! I would like to now play a new Christmas hymn written by myself and Franz,” Father Joseph announced. “Since our organ is broken, Franz will play the guitar. Sometimes, new songs come from the most unlikely places at the right time when we need them the most.”

Father Joseph watched the congregation shift in their seats and whisper among themselves. He was worried at what their response might be, but he hoped for the best.

“What happened to the organ?” one man in a black suit snapped. 

“Shh,” another lady in a red and gold Christmas gown whispered. “He’s about to play his new hymn.”

The entire congregation grew completely quiet. Then, as if angels had descended from heaven to sing with them, Father Joseph and Franz debuted “Silent Night” for the first time. Joseph felt nervous down to his toes.

“Silent night, holy night,” Father Joseph sang as Franz strummed the guitar. Franz sang some spontaneous harmonies that the priest loved. 

Father Joseph blinked back tears. It sounded so angelic. He thought the song felt simple, but timeless. He sensed a special presence of peace in the sanctuary. 

One at a time, while the priest and choirmaster sang, the congregation lit candles that were stuffed in the pews. Small children stood in awe as their parents struck matches for flames. The church had never been so beautiful and serene. The pews glowed with golden light. 

The Strassers, a family of travelling glovemakers, sat in the front pews, filled with tears. Father Joseph knew the family was known for their singing and glad they were in attendance for the first performance of his hymn.

“The song makes me think of our children when they were younger,” Mr. Strasser said to his wife. “How thoughtful of Father Joseph and Franz to write such a lovely new carol for Christmas.”

As Father Joseph and Franz finished the carol, Joseph cleared his throat. He was nervous to ask for more money than the congregation might have during the holidays to buy a new organ.

“Now that we have heard the beautiful new hymn on guitar, please give generously for us to be able to buy a new organ,” Father Joseph pleaded. “God loves a cheerful giver!”

As the offering plate made its way throughout the congregation, the Strasser family dug into their pockets, and each gave an offering, even the children. The rest of the congregation dropped dollars and coins onto the plate as well. 

As Father Joseph looked at the offering plate when it returned to him, he noticed a major donation or two. Mr. Strasser smiled with joy at Father Joseph, who was so surprised at the large amount of money in the offering. After he gave the benediction for the service, Father Joseph watched as his congregants went home, singing the new hymn to themselves. He hoped they remembered every word in their hearts.

“Could we please have a copy of the new hymn, Father Joseph?” Mr. Strasser said to the priest after the service. “My family and I sing folk songs, and I would love to champion ‘Silent Night.’”

After that night, the hymn was so well-loved that it spread to neighboring villages across Austria and eventually Europe, much to the credit of the Strasser family, who often sang the song with harmonies as their father sold gloves. The family even performed it for King Frederick William IV of Prussia. 

As time passed, the Rainers, another family of singers, performed the song often as well, eventually at Trinity Church in New York City. Father Joseph had never anticipated “Silent Night” would receive so much recognition. He was grateful every time he received word that someone else had performed his hymn. His church became known as the Silent Night Chapel.

As tradition has it, the song is now sung on Christmas Eve all over the world at the stroke of midnight by candlelight. It offers a peaceful blessing in tumultuous times. Everyone needs a silent night, but most of all at Christmas. 

 

Editor’s note: “The Most Silent Night” is a fictionalized retelling of the first performance of “Silent Night” (“Stille Nacht”), written in 1818 by Father Joseph Mohr, a young priest at St. Nicholas Church in Oberndorf, Austria, and composed by Franz Xaver Gruber, the church organist. “Silent Night” was performed for the first time on Christmas Eve during Midnight Mass by candlelight. Today, it is sung all around the world as a symbol of peace. 

 

Copyright 2019, 2025 Jennifer Waters

Monday, November 26, 2018

The Christmas Accordion: The Story of a Holiday Melodeon

The Christmas Accordion has magic in its notes.
It makes you think of merriment and happiness floats.
The melodeon is a squeezebox with a secret inside. 
It holds music and melodies and brings the Yuletide. 
The concertina is a symphony you hold upon your lap
When you’ve just settled down for a short winter’s nap. 
It only plays Christmas songs, not a note of May or June. 
The stomach Steinway has a song vault that’s always in tune.
So wind up the box, and see what it plays for you. 
It will pick your holiday song, a song that’s bright and true. 
It’s almost as a fortune of old mysteries from the deep. 
The songs are something that the Accordion couldn’t keep. 
Now sit by the fireside and instead of a Christmas chat,
Expect a song from heaven with musicality that’s pat. 
You might even see the notes linger from the box. 
Catch them if you can, like a little sly silver fox. 
The songs will make you sing ‘till you can sing no more,
Make you dance ‘till you scratch your shiny kitchen floor. 
It always plays the song that you need at the time,
Giving you Christmas gifts that are like a brilliant chime. 
Then your heart becomes an accordion just like the instrument
And your life becomes the world’s most precious ornament. 
All because you squeezed room for Christmas chorus reeds
With lots of love and light and a season of very good deeds.  

Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters

Wednesday, November 21, 2018

Little Christmas: The Story of an Irish Mouse with a Big Heart

If you need a little Christmas inside your dreary house, 
Then you might need nothing more than a cheery mouse.  
Little Christmas is a Godsend on a stormy winter’s day. 
He has a big heart and always has something good to say. 
With an Irish accent, he carries luck inside his vest.
A three-leaf clover behind his ear brings some extra zest. 
He can sneak inside your stocking above your fireplace
And sprinkle cinnamon in your cider with a lot of grace.
He can snuggle on your shoulder, then slip into your shirt,
And sing carols right on key as he cooks a sweet dessert. 
Almost like a Wise Man with epiphany in his soul, 
He comes bearing gifts instead of ugly bags of coal.
So before you turn away a new friend with a tail, 
Welcome him in your home, and merry will prevail. 

Copyright 2019 Jennifer Waters