The cards are ready to mail, including the one that 01 doc and I have been mailing back and forth since nineteen-seventy something. We skipped the year our mother passed away and combined 2007/08. But other than that, it has gone faithfully back and forth each Christmas. We should have started that practice with everyone we know. Think of the trees we would have spared.
That card is so faded that the front has to be held to an angle against the light to actually read it. Our personal messages to one another, sent year after year, cover both sides of the folded card and then one has to unfold it completely and read more messages on the white (now yellowed) interior. Thank heaven it has so much room. 01 doc sent it to me the first time and we both liked it so much that I returned it to her that next year. The message of that card is copied below:
THE FINAL WILD SONG
OF YOUR BIRTH-NIGHT
CAN NEVER BE WRITTEN;
THE LAST SHINING WORD OF YOUR COMING
CAN NOT BE SAID.
ROUGH, SLOW-MINDED SHEPHERDS WILL RUN,
BY NIGHT TO A CAVE
AND A CATTLE SHED.
AND YOU, BEYOND BONDAGE OF TIME
WITHOUT END OR BEGINNING
WILL WAKE IN THE ARMS OF A MAID
ON AN UNENDING NIGHT.
YOU, THE UNUTTERED WORD BECOME FLESH
AND FOREVER NOW SPOKEN
WILL BE HERE, BE OUR LIFE, OUR ACCESSIBLE LIGHT.
TONIGHT IS YOUR NIGHT,
YOUR INCREDIBLE SONG-SPANGLED STORY.
WE SHEPHERDS AND FLOCKS WAIT ON FIELDS
BEYOND BETHLEHEM PLAIN;
O ANGELS, O SHEPHERDS, O JOSEPH, O MARY,
O GOD, TELL YOUR CHILDREN THE STORY AGAIN!
by Evaline Wolf