My Mitten-Covered Hand in my Dad’s


Come, Ghost of Christmas Past
Transport me to a little girl of six
Walking the streets of downtown St. Louis
Where bundled in my red coat
With white fur trim
My mitten-covered hand
Is held by my Dad’s.
Snow flurries dance
In gusts of wind
As we stand together
Before the Famous-Barr holiday windows.

Come, Ghost of Christmas Past
My memory is fleeting
In this now older mind.
Mom shops while Dad and I walk
To the line of eager children
Waiting for their turn on Santa’s lap.
Was this the year I told him
I wanted a Mrs. Beasley doll
and I got it?
Oh, “the shadows of things
that have been.”
Just let me feel
My mitten-covered hand
In my Dad’s once again.


Quoted text is from A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.

Talitha Cumi


A daughter dying
Her father implores on bended knee
“Come, Lord Jesus,
You can make her well” was his plea.

Told she is dead
and to trouble Jesus no more.
“Do not fear, only believe,”
Jesus says to her father.

He enters the house
to the sound of great weeping.
Sees the commotion and tells them
she is not dead, but sleeping.

The mourners laugh
and Jesus puts them outside.
Taking the child’s hand He says
“Talitha cumi, little girl arise.”

Awake, O sleeper
Jesus take our hand.
You give life to the dead
Revive us once again.

-Debbie Neal Crawford

Scripture references: Mark 5:21-24, 35-43 and Ephesians 5:14





Photo by Nong Vang on Unsplash

Like the pages of an unopened book
waiting to be turned
A new month begins
with weekly calendars instead of chapters
Numbered days waiting to be filled
with events that write my life story.
To everything there is a season-
Summer sun and lemonade surrender
to pumpkin-spice filled Autumn days.
I relinquish busy for better
                ­performance for peace
                   anxiety for acceptance.
May I live this season well-
Embrace the falling leaves
and seize the day.

-Debbie Neal Crawford