Creative Writing for Christmas

Donkey

By Evelyn Bush

December 2013

I have dark eyes.  I have a blue blanket on my back for Mary.  My hooves hurt.  Mary braided my mane.  I want to sleep and my back is aching.  We get to the city, and we are unhappy we have to leave the inn, but we are happy to rest in the stable.  I see and then taste the sweet hay.  Jesus is born in a stable.  I love Him.  I am happy!

Donkey

By Micah

December 2013

I was hot and tired, but it turned colder.  It did not help.  When we came to the inn, I thought ‘Good, now can I rest?’  But no, I had to keep going. 

We came to a barn.  ‘Now can I rest?’  Joseph could not hear me, but I think he said, “Yes.”  I lay on the cold hay.  I saw Mary give birth to Jesus Christ.  I felt warmer as I came close to Him and then I kissed Him!

Donkey

By Troy Bush

My dark brown hair glistened in the hot sun, as I followed my father, who was carrying Mary.

       “Are we there yet?” I brayed.

       “No son but we’ll be there soon,” he answered, “Stop being so impatient.”

       “Fine,” I mumbled.

       When we got there, it was cold.  The wind blew my dark mane, making my neck more freezing.  I shivered as I glanced up to see a giant star.  It was so bright it made my hooves shine.  It was even white, my favorite color! 

       Then I noticed something.  In a manger, there was my favorite food, hay!  Next to the hay, there was a baby!  I saw a camel trod over and lick the baby.  Then my dad went over and kissed him.  Finally, I went up and kissed Jesus, my cold nose against his warm cheek.  I sat back down on the hay, and an innkeeper with a scruffy beard look out his window at the baby, and then looked at me!  I smiled (though I don’t think he noticed).  He waved back.

       “This is an awesome night!” I said happily.

The End

INNKEEPER POEM

BY: Owen Bush

     My scruffy beard itches,

         My clothes have loose stitches.

      My sandals are muddy,

         The barn is all cruddy.

      I sent away Mary,

         and a donkey all hairy.

      I see what I’ve done is wrong,

         then suddenly I hear a song!

      I climb off my chair,

         and then I find there:

      a baby is born,

         clothes tattered and torn.

      Shepherds kneeling in the sod,

         worshipping Jesus, the Son of God.

Leslie Bush

December 13, 2013

Creative Writing

Handmaiden of the Lord

She listens more with her heart than her ears,

She is young and wise far beyond her years.

The angels sing high up in the cloud,

Joseph stands so tall and proud.

Her face is bright like the evening star,

The light from her spirit shines quite far.

The shepherds see the babe in the manger,

They kneel and bow to the little stranger.

She quietly ponders the baby’s perfection,

And holds Him close to show her affection.

The world stands still, hearing her soft lullaby,

It brings tears of joy to Joseph’s eye.

Fulfilled is Isaiah’s holy prophetic word,

By the pure and chosen vessel, handmaiden of the Lord.

12/13/13

Jonas Bush

Creative Writing

The invisible burden on his shoulders weighs them down.  His mind is troubled too, with thoughts of duty and fear.  He is scared for Mary, and for the Child she holds in her arms.  He is worried that he will fail his Father in Heaven after having been entrusted with so much.  In his mind’s eye he can see the Child, learning and growing. How will he teach his Savior and Redeemer?

He prays and the burden is lifted.  He will teach the hard work of a carpenter.  He will teach the love of a husband and father.  He will teach the delicate, careful work of designing wood.  He will teach the devotion of a man faithful to God.  He will teach hours of selfless sacrifice, working for others. 

Joseph prays, and as he does so, he knows that he is not the only father teaching.  As he prays, he feels scared, but more importantly, he feels ready.  He is ready to teach the Savior of the world.