I need to tell you upfront that this is not about religion. While the following post will touch on religion it is not a central part of the story. It is just sort of there. So before you go in, if you are the type to be easily offended, turn off that part of your brain.
This is, at the core, a sad story. It was told to me secondhand by frequent contributor and distinguished scholar Allan Keyes but it is one that has happened to millions of people, possibly even those you know. As I said, it is a sad story.
Mr. Keyes was sitting in a restaurant when he overheard a conversation between two people at the next table. They were talking about a friend of theirs who had tragically lost her baby. A horror at any time, the woman was taking it even harder due to the looming holiday season. The couple at the table had, among other things, bought her a card to console her. It was a “Baby’s First Christmas in Heaven” card. They thought it would cheer her up so much that the woman would, and I quote, “frame it and put it on her wall.”
While on the surface a card like that may seem a bit ghoulish, when written well it can bring some measure of consolation to the person getting it. Here is a sample found online of what I think is a good verse:
I see the countless Christmas Trees around the world below,
with tiny lights, like heaven’s stars, reflecting on the snow.
The sight is so spectacular, please wipe away that tear,
for I am spending Christmas with Jesus Christ this year.
A poem like that could give a measure of comfort to a grieving parent.
But it has to be done right.
I found this bit of poetry online.
~Christmas In Heaven~
In Loving Memory of all who are spending their first Christmas in Heaven
I’ve had my first Christmas in Heaven; A glorious, wonderful day! I stood with the saints of the ages. Who found Christ the Truth and the Way.
We sang the glad songs of redemption, How Jesus to Bethlehem came, And how they called His name Jesus, That all might be saved through His name.
Oh darling, I wish you had been here; No Christmas on earth could compare With all the rapture and glory We witnessed in Heaven so fair.
You know how I always loved Christmas; It seemed such a wonderful day, With all of my loved ones around me, The children so happy at play.
Yes, now I see why I loved it; And, oh, what a joy it will be When you and my loved ones are with me, To share in the glories I see.
So dear ones on earth, here’s my greeting; Look up “till the Day Star appears, And oh, what a Christmas awaits us, Beyond all our partings and tears!
~written by A.S. Reitz
Something in those lines caught my eye. Did it catch yours? Read these lines again.
Oh darling, I wish you had been here
And
And, oh, what a joy it will be
When you and my loved ones are with me
In other words, “I wish you were with me up here in Heaven. Things will be so great when you get here.”
Catch it yet?
The narrator of the poem is saying “I wish you were dead too. I can’t wait for you to die.”
It continues.
And oh, what a Christmas awaits us,
Beyond all our partings and tears!
Wow, he makes Christmas in heaven sound so good that maybe I should jump in front of a truck and get there right now! Maybe I’m nuts, but if you reread the poem’s last two verses, isn’t the narrator implying that the loved ones should hurry up and die already? That is a dangerous message to send a grieving parent.
I fail to see any comfort in that poem.
Merry Christmas! Now Drop Dead! Isn’t that what the season is all about?
Sit back and relax, Dear Readers. If you are reading this on your phone or mobile device I welcome you, but I also suggest that you find a place to sit down and get comfortable for a while. In fact, before we go on, go ahead and bookmark this page. When you get to the end of this post you’ll see why. In fact, let me give you some advice. Don’t.
Don’t get to the end in one sitting. Take your time, come back to this over a few days. Pause. Savor it. Find that quiet and comfy spot and prepare to stay there for a while. But you’ll be there in body only. Your spirit is taking a little trip.
A trip to Vienna….
“Hi, my name is Ingrid and I’m very happy to be a mobster.
My main work is writing poetry and short stories; to publish my precious pieces I run a blog – “DancingElla’s Words“.
Some of you might know me as a legend teller on FlashCast. The idea came up when I read a blog post by JRD Skinner and almost at the same time he told me about his interest in Vienna. This reminded me of my old love in these legends and so I’ve started to transform the Austriagerman originals into English. You can find them all at “Viennese Legends“.
Finally a huge thanks to bmj2k for his invite! I hope you’ll enjoy the selected potpourrie of my work and you’ll have an entertaining time.”
Legends
A legend about a junker, his vices and how to get a magical coin …
“The Heckthaler”
A bone houseis the location of this creepy legend …
“Revenge of the Dead”
In ancient times three little devils played their mischievous tricks on the Viennese in and around St. Stephen’s church … “The Three Little Devils”
Poetry
“Broken Mirror” by Ingrid Prohaska
The mirror broken a smash on my soul a chapter closed
Hands are reaching out for me offer me their help but when I try to take them I have to see these hands are bones of dead or undead I feel the cold and I’m scared
So I fall deeper and deeper deeper into a universe where the sun doesn’t shine and no flower can bloom where tears freeze into sharp stones
An unknown land without any light where one can’t see and hardly breathe dark feelings are stronger than ever
My inside cries
But in my scream there hang the words for me to hear
“On the Terminal” by Ingrid Prohaska I got out of the train on that big terminal. I had a lot of bags; my baggage had become very heavy during the long lasting journey. I felt tired, somehow burned out, hopeless and nearly desperate. I didn’t know, where my journey would go when I was going to leave the station again, but I was sure – I didn’t want to take all these heavy bags with me any more.
I carried my baggage into the station hall and looked for a silent place. Finally I sat down on a bench in a low frequented area. I thought about what I could do. I watched the passengers carrying their suitcases and bags. Some of them carried very heavy, others seemed almost to dance with their light bags. “I wish that could be me; dancing through the life only with light bags, carrying only things I really need.”
I had lost some of my light bags with things I was missing now. And somehow I was already used on the heavy bags I carried with me; this made it so difficult to dump them. Sometimes I asked myself, why it was so easy to lose light bags, and seemingly not possible to get rid of heavy ones.
While I was lost in my thoughts, my eyes fell upon a sign “Lost & Found”.
“Hey,” I thought, “there are the experts!”
I took up all my bags, carried them towards the sign, walked into the agency and looked for a friendly face. A middle-aged man with a blue working-coat stood behind the desk. He had a boring face without any expression.
“Can I help you?” he said expressionless with a monotonous voice.
“Yes, I really want to get rid of my heavy bags. Could you please give me an advice?”
“Never heard about someone who wants to lose something,” he answered still monotonous, “Normally people come to us because they want to find what they have lost.”
“Well,” I said, “I also lost a lot of things during my journey. So, maybe you can help me in this way?”
“Yes,” he said and gave me a form, “fill it out, make a list, describe your bags and bring it back. Then we will see, if someone has found your things.”
I took my pen and wrote down a list: love, time, joy, humor and hope.
I gave him the list and a smile crossed his face.
“Yes Lady, these things are often lost. Our backroom is full of these things. These are light bags. People rather lose light bags than heavy ones.”
He opened the door to the backroom, so that I could have a look into it and I was really surprised.
“And nobody comes to get back what he has lost?” I asked.
“Seldom,” he said. “Although many people miss their light bags, they don’t take the time to find them. Others even don’t notice what they have lost. So, we’ll have a look for your bags.”
He went into the backroom and while I was waiting, I felt hope coming back. And really how I had felt, he brought me the well acquainted bag of my hopes. Suddenly I felt joy. I had tears in my eyes when he brought me my bag of joy a short time later.
I left the “Lost & Found” agency again with my bags of hope and joy. And anyhow – my heavy baggage seemed lighter. I sat down again in the station hall. I cried and laughed the same time.
“Hey Lady, is everything alright with you?” An old man had sat down beside me. I told him my story about getting back my hope and my joy.
“But I still wish to lose my heavy bags.” I ended my story.
“What is in your heavy bags?” he asked.
“Well,” I sighed, “I had a lot of bad experiences, hurts, guilt, doubts, fears. – Do you know how to get rid of them?”
He smiled. “Losing heavy things is not so easy, eh? They are often connected with the fear of forgetting and forgetting bad things is often connected with the fear of happening again. Right?”
I nodded.
“Love helps,” he continued.
“But I have lost my love.” I answered sadly.
“Okay,” he said, “and what’s about your self-love? I’m pretty sure you have some, otherwise you wouldn’t wish to change your baggage.”
I looked around, “Could be I have a little bag self-love anywhere.”
“So take care of your self-love, let it grow. This can be a way to lose your doubts and fear and guilt. I’m sure you won’t miss them. And love will heal your hurts. And love,” he said, “will become more and more, if you take care of it and you will be able to give love and so you will get love.”
I felt that this man was right.
“And – do you also know, how I can find my lost time and my lost humor?”
He smiled again. “Time,” he said, “is lost. It is past. But take care of your future moments. Try to enjoy every moment in your life. And humor,” he said still smiling, “humor, you’ll see, come back alone.”
Before I could thank the old man for his advice, he disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. But he was right again.
After I had left the station – with my light baggage I had decided to walk except of taking another train – I found a bag of humor. I laughed and I danced and then – I wrote down this story.
Mr. Blog's Tepid Ride 
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