Writers’ Corner

If you have a poem, song lyrics or a short story and you would like to share it with the readers of The Statesman now is your chance.

Email or mail us your submission and look for it in an upcoming issue of The Statesman.

From the Cradle to the Cross

He walked among the people in a place called Galilee. He healed the sick, raised the dead and set the captives free. He spoke with great compassion and gave liberty to the lost.

Just a child there in the temple he astonished everyone with words of wisdom spoken. Could this be Joseph’s son? There’s a man who was a leper and another who was lame. Every place He went He brought new life. The story was the same.

No one could fill his sandals, always in His Father’s will, from a lonely birth in Bethlehem to a cross on Calvary’s hill. Satan thought he won the battle, but soon he’d know his loss. Jesus lived and died, the plan of God -- from the cradle to the cross.

From the cradle to the cross. From joy to agony. From a baby in a manger to a lamb on Calvary. He gave himself as a sacrifice. He was willing to pay the cost, and I thank the Lord for what He did -- from the cradle to the cross.

-- Katrina Edwards

News From the North Pole

In the early afternoon, Grandma Claus saw Santa rub his eyes, heard him take a deep breath, and watched as he held onto the rail and half-pulled himself up the stairs. “Goodnight,” he said as he opened his bedroom door. “Don’t let me oversleep. The sleigh is loaded and I have a long way to go tonight.”

Grandma Claus, who had gotten up late, was not sleepy. She waited a few minutes then tiptoed up and gently pushed the door open. Both Santa and Mrs. Claus were snoring.

She slipped into the room, turned off the alarm clock, closed the door gently, and ran down the stairs. In seconds she was wearing boots, a heavy coat, a scarf, gloves and a warm red cap, and was out the door.

When the reindeer saw her, they leaped into their places and waited as she buckled them to the sleigh. Then they began impatiently stamping their hooves as she checked to see that all the gifts were properly secured.

Grandma climbed on board, tightened her seat belt, and cried, “We’re off! Rudolph, lead the way. Let’s go!”

It had been years since she had driven the sleigh and, oh, such fun it was to zoom through the winter sky with stars twinkling above and houselights glowing and chimneys pushing warm smoke up from below. All this fun, and I’m helping Santa, too, she thought. But, alas, she was no longer an experienced sleigh-driver. She went too fast and didn’t bank correctly. The turns became steeper and steeper and she went faster and faster, and soon lost control of the sleigh. The beautifully wrapped packages slipped and slid from the sleigh until all were lost.

A great distance further, she regained control of the sleigh and the reindeer slowed their speed. They backtracked for hours, but couldn’t find a single present. A tear slid from Grandma’s eye and froze on her cheek as she and a much-subdued reindeer team returned to the North Pole and were met by a very upset Santa.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I was only trying to help you.”

Santa was sorry, too. But he was glad Grandma and the reindeer were safely home. He didn’t fuss at her. He hugged her and made her a cup of hot cocoa, then sat at his computer and e-mailed all those he had planned to visit. He explained what had happened and said the elves were on vacation and it would be quite a while before he could replace the gifts.

“Merry Christmas,” he wrote. “Enjoy family, friends, food, and fun. The New Year is coming. And I promise you that we will have Christmas -- but I think it may be in July this year!”

--Glenda F. Freeman