THE CHRISTMAS NUT

Christmas nuts of many kinds
Fill the aged walnut bowl;
Treasures lying hidden there,
Loved by the young and old.

I’ve often watched a hungry hand
Sort thru the jumbled lot;
And deftly pick the “just right nut”,
That special one he sought.

Examined by a well trained eye,
To yield the best spot where
The cracker does its dirty work,
To release the morsel there.

With pressure from a mighty hand,
His eyes bug out from strain;
A sharp crack fills the silent room,
And his jaw gives hint of pain.

Determination rises ever more,
At the nuts defiant stand;
For it seems the shell that hides the treat,
Will deny the strength of man.

Driv’n by hint of taste so grand,
And perhaps a bit of pride;
The man digs deep within his soul,
To release that nut inside.

With a mighty surge he squeezes hard,
And smashes that stubborn shell;
Then he sees the million pieces there,
And licks his lips—oh well!

A light-hearted Christmas poem, perhaps and I chuckled when I read it.  But, there is an underlying moral that inspired me to write it.  All of us, it seems, become that Christmas nut at some point in our lives.

Burdened by worries, ill health, loss of a loved one or a million other trials, we at times put a shell around our soul.  Each new worry or trouble adds a layer to the shell until it becomes impenetrable by even the most loving among us who are touched to release the soul inside.

One doesn’t have to look far to find a potpourri of Christmas nuts—the world is their bowl.  The lost soul who served in Vietnam; the homeless bum under the bridge; the banker with the gun; the lone figure standing in winter air on a cold steel bridge; the saddened face sitting in the back pew at Sunday service; all cry out for a tender hand to deftly crack their shells and release them.

But—if we are to help, it must be done with care or the loving soul inside will end as a shattered memory of the glory it had once been.  Perhaps the lesson for all of us is to slowly chip away at the shell with Christian love rather than smash at it with pride and ego.

The task is surely worth a little patience, and Christ will claim the prize when we succeed.

© Charles E. Branthoover