Sunday, December 25, 2011

Merry Christmas! Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace, goodwill to men! Love to you & yours from Darryl & Catrina Blount

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

My Grandmother's Legacy Remains

My grandmother, Rosie Mctyere, passed away three years ago today, December 21. I remember that the news of her passing shocked me. She was only 90 years old, and ever since I was a little girl, I just knew she would outlive my entire family. Grandma had been strong and independent, seemingly in need of nothing but the Lord that she loved. The last few years of her life had been plagued by illness, but still she was Grandma, the one who told us what was on her mind and made us laugh. I really miss her, but sometimes I see her in my granddaughter. My Twinkie’s mannerisms are a lot like the great-great grandmother who was gone before she got here.

I was on my way to a Christmas Banquet the day Grandma passed. I had been asked to write and read a poem at the event, but for some reason I had not written anything. After I found out my gran was gone, I wrote the poem which follows. I don’t know what one thing has to do with the other, but somehow I have always felt like Grandma gave me these words. She loved the Lord with all her heart and she loved her family. She outlived all of her siblings, and took care of every family member that needed her.  She was Grandma to her entire community in Niagara Falls, New York. My family rejoices in the knowledge that Grandma is enjoying the fellowship of the Savior she loved, and I, for one, look forward to seeing her again one day.

BORN TO DIE

I still celebrate Christmas
Not a generic holiday
Because I have to remember the reason
That we give such reverence to the season
Because the messiah was brought nigh
It was Jesus, the Savior, born to die

Imagine his virgin mother
Herself not more than a child
Chosen to incubate the one
Who men to God would reconcile
I wonder if she asked God why
Her firstborn child was born to die

Imagine his earthly father
Entrusted to raise the son of God
A child born like no other
In a place that seemed so odd
I wonder if it made him cry
To watch a child grow who was born to die

The shepherds heard heaven’s announcement
The glory of the heavenly choir
They worshiped him when they found him
Amidst a stable’s muck and mire
I wonder if the angels prophesied
This was the savior, from heaven, born to die

The magi followed the shining star
To find out the birthplace of the king afar
Bearing gifts they came with joy
To worship the heaven-sent baby boy
I wonder if they even realized
They worshiped a king, anointed and born to die

Now they don’t want to remember his name
To delete Christ the savior is the world’s chief aim
To replace him with “x” as if that is the same
And to turn those who worship him to shame
But the reason this season exists – I won’t lie
Is to remember the heaven-sent king, born to die


©2008, Catrina Johnson-Blount
Poem to be published in the upcoming collection, “Observations of a Black Girl”