A Return Visit from St. Nicolas

Last night, I read A Visit from St Nicolas by Clement Clarke Moore for the first time.

In school, my class read this poem practically every year before winter break. But as a kid raised Jehovah Witness, I was sent to the library or stuck awkwardly in a corner with some Bible literature trying extremely hard not to listen. Every Christmas, I immerse myself in the holiday and embrace new traditions, like reading this poem.

For me, participating gives me a feeling of connection to the people and the world around me. Something that I didn’t experience growing up. So, feeling inspired by this poem, and doing things for the first time, I wrote a version from my perspective when I was a Jehovah Witness.

~ Merry Christmas!

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'Twas the night before Christmas, when all throughout the hall, Not a creature was feasting, nor shopping the mall.

We Witnesses' steered clear, of things festive and bright. St Nick missed our houses, with no Christmas light.

Daily we preached, from door to door. Working part-time jobs, and staying poor.

This day I was preaching, in the cold and the rain. I thought to myself: "This is such a pain!

We keep on knocking, but there is no answer. Why can't the governing body, make paradise come faster!

They said the end is near, the light is getting brighter. But prophecy is not fulfilled, and I have no pet tiger.

I'm starting to think, the Watchtower has goofed. Not a word to anyone, for fear of re-proof!

The elders are watching, and will hear my moans. Especially that pesky, Brother Jerome!"

The world is celebrating, with much holiday cheer. I'm sad and alone, drinking cheap beer.

In secret I doubted, the life I had chosen. For fear of disfellowshipping, my heart was broken.

Awakened in the night, I heard a loud thump. "The end is here!" I said with a jump.

To the window, I looked, and to my surprise. No fire or brimstone, but St Nicolas' eyes!

In a panic, I froze, as I heard a whisper: "Do not be afraid, my sweet young Sister.

Please open the door, I know you are home. I swear not to tell, Brother Jerome."

I opened the door, with a trembling hand. Who could be next? perhaps Peter Pan?

"Sir why are you here?" I whispered quietly. "Bad associations, gives me anxiety!"

He set down his bag, and sat in my chair. "I should pass your home, for the beliefs, you adhere.

You have no Christmas spirit, no glimmer of holiday magic. But tonight I saw within you, with doubtful feelings, how tragic!

So I bought you this present, to mend your divided heart. Using your critical mind, truth from lies you'll pull apart."

He reached from his bag, and placed in my hands. The book Crisis of Conscience by Raymond Franz.

All night I kept reading, learning the real truth. About the false doctrine, I believed since my youth.

Awakened I now feel, and know I must leave. This cult I've been stuck in, no more will I be deceived.

So I told Brother Jerome: "I'm leaving this behind. No matter what you say, I will not change my mind."

A wicked apostate, he warns me to the others. That is why now, I've lost all my brothers.

Healed from those lies, I drink a nice scotch. Hoping tomorrow will bring, a new Apple Watch!

St Nicolas did return, to check on his friend. "I see the book I gave, you did comprehend.

*Now you have joy, and independent thought. You can do anything, even become an astronaut!

To other homes, I must visit, and sow apostate seeds. Turn sheep to goats, from cults, they'll be freed.

Then together we'll say, when they've learned what's right. 'Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night!'".*