Friday, December 23, 2011

It's Time to Gather Around the Creche...




I was a bride of twenty in the mid-sixties

decorating my home creatively and economically

by attending ceramic classes Tuesday evenings

in Bette Carozza's basement

We sat round the table and coffee cups

cleaning greenware, applying

underglazes and overglazes

talking girl talk all the while

We made cookie dishes and ashtrays

glossy green Christmas trees with snowy branches

fitted with tiny colored lights

We made rooster lamps, pitchers and bowls

piggy banks and tall German beer steins

The most ambitious of us

made chess pieces and Nativity figures

I began working on my Nativity set in 1965

took a few months off after Mom died

and picked up the last pieces

hot from Bette's old electric kiln

on Christmas Eve Day, 1966

How well I recall carefully cleaning

the fragile greenware with a sharp tool

till the seams were perfectly smooth

sanding and sponging tiny bumps

and filling pit holes

Wanting to be as authentic as possible

I applied three coats of sky blue to Mary's robe

and ruddy brown to Joseph's

Jesus' features were less sharp

than the other figures

having been cast from a mold

that had been poured too many times

I unknowingly made the flesh tones far too pale

for Middle Easterners

The magi and their regal camels

were embellished with accents of pure gold

and I glued tiny rhinestones

onto their gift offerings

even though it's likely

the wisemen didn't visit the Christ Child

until months after He was born

The shepherds' garb were given earth tones

and a staff was provided for one of them

fashioned from a birch twig

I dabbed white froth onto the lambs' coats

and gave the cow big brown patches

making it a Guernsey

a breed not likely to have grazed

the fields of Bethlehem

The long eared donkey was painted gray

Bette's husband, ChiChi

built a fine wooden crèche

with a place on top

to hang the golden haired angel

who flourished a banner proclaiming

"Gloria in Excelsus Deo"

I installed a music box

which played "Adeste Fidelis"

and a little light bulb

and bought a bag of sweet straw

from Woolworth's

For more than thirty-five Christmases

I've been unpacking the big cardboard box

unwrapping the fragile figures from newspaper

and displaying them throughout the season.

Some years, when the children were young

Jesus wasn't placed in the manger

until Christmas Eve

then we all sang, "Happy Birthday"

The angel now has a chipped wing

and the Guernsey's missing a horn

but Jesus still lies sweetly in His crib

apparently not minding whether or not

I managed to get every jot and tittle

of His manger scene historically correct

He just lies sweetly there

year after year

reminding us

that significant night

long, long ago

is a forever celebration

Maude Carolan

This poem was written in 2001, therefore the Nativity figures have been prominently displayed in our home for forty-five Christmases.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Introducing "It's All About...THE LAMB" Maude's quarterly inspirational poetry letter...

December 15, 2011

After God’s Own Heart Publishing presents…

Vol. 14 Issue 4

It’s All About…The Lamb


“Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and glory and blessing.”  Rev 5:12 NASB

IT’S ALL ABOUT…THE LAMB is a quarterly publication for lovers of the Holy Lamb of God, who also enjoy poetry.  The purpose is to magnify our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, and inspire an ever-deepening relationship with Him, the lover of our souls…


In October, at the encouragement of fellow members of the North Jersey Christian Writers Group (NJCWG), I began posting inspirational poetry online, to a blog. The word blog actually means web log; it’s a type of website.

One of NJCWG’s experienced bloggers, Susan Panzica (, generously shared what she knows at an informal workshop held at a local Starbuck’s, one Saturday morning. Voila! After much trial and error and many communications with Susan, I’m creating a new blog post each week. It’s creative, fun and an up-to-date way of telling others the good news about Our Wonderful Savior.

Check it out and leave a comment. I’m hoping to draw readers and increase subscribers. Go to:


It’s that time of year…The hand-painted ceramic manger scene is prominently displayed on the old pine hutch, the Norwegian Pecan Sugar Cookies, Pfeffernuesse and Anise Biscotti are baked and stored in big red tins and I’m trying to figure out when the rest of the cookies will be baked and when there’ll be time to wrap presents. My 2011 Christmas poem, Mary & Elizabeth, has been artfully arranged on holiday paper and mailed to family and friends with much love and joy. I have Jesus on my mind…It’s Merry Christmastime!

My nearly eight year old grandson sent me his first ever email containing his very first poem, a haiku. He decorated it with clipart of Jesus, an angel and a crèche. It certainly warmed my heart. I’d like to share it with you:


Jesus is the best.

God gives us His son, Jesus.

Santa gives us gifts.

Logan Muniz
2nd grade


Ann is a long-standing member of NJCWG. She composes poetry and writes and charmingly illustrates stories for children and adolescents.

I asked Ann to provide a brief testimony. She said, "I was a secular humanist until middle-aged. Then I was led to the Lord by a very special pastor. This happened after our two teenage daughters started attending a Bible church. Concerned about that, I started attending with them, to check out the church. After many, many salvation messages, finally I believed. Now I attend an Assembly of God church in Wanaque, NJ. In addition to our daughters, we have four grandchildren in Rockland County, New York."

The title of Ann’s poem is The Christmas Deed. It tells of an unexpected act of kindness that occurred in her neighborhood during a raging snowstorm, last Christmas.

I’ll also include my new poem, Mary & Elizabeth.



Christmas day began with thunder and rain.

Then hail fell from the sky.

When a layer of ice covered the road,

a snowy mist began.

By midday, snow drifted down like feathers.

It accumulated on the ground

and clung to the westward side of trees.

All day the wind was strong.

Would-be travelers stayed home

and admired God’s great white gift.

They opened presents, feasted

and wished one another well.

As evening fell, candles flickered,

mechanical reindeer nodded their heads,

and plastic puff snowmen

lifted high their candy canes.

The temperature dropped and

the wind and snow continued.

Doors were tightly closed

and homes were warm and dry.

A young man remembered his older neighbors.

He kissed his wife and son goodnight,

went out, started the snow blower,

and crossed the road to their home.

In the dark of the night he worked almost silently,

the snow and wind covered the sound.

Face to the wind, back to the wind,

he dug out two cars and cleared a path to the doorway,

a Christmas deed done in the spirit of Christ.

He left for work the next morning at five,

and a prayer went with him from the woman across the way.

She’d pulled aside the lace curtain and seen him working.

With a grateful heart she asked God to bless his day.

Ann Crediford

© 2011


A lovely young virgin

from Nazareth, was roused

by the flapping of wings

a manshape in moonbeams

and a perplexing salutation:

Greetings, favored one!

The Lord is with you

It was Gabriel

an angel sent by God

who told Mary she would conceive

and bear a boy child, Jesus—

the Son of the Most High

He spoke of the Holy Spirit

and overshadowing

and of her relative, Elizabeth

who though barren

conceived in her old age—

for nothing is impossible with God

Awestruck, trembling

needing to tell someone

who did Mary go to first?

Her mother? Father?

How would they receive such news?

Or did she run to her betrothed, Joseph

expecting him to understand?

Oh, he wanted to understand

wanted to believe, but

it was unbelievable, preposterous

So, stunned, disappointed

feeling utterly deceived, Joseph

contemplated quietly sending her away

Then Mary remembered the angel

had spoken of her dear cousin, Elizabeth—

Is that why Mary hurried off

on a brave trek to the hills of Hebron…alone?

Of course, it had to be Elizabeth

aged, wise, expecting

and now acquainted, herself, with miracles

When Mary arrived at the home

of Zacharias and Elizabeth

Elizabeth’s unborn baby

leapt for joy! in her womb

and in a whirl of wondrous ecstasy

Elizabeth knew of Mary’s pregnancy

before being told

…then a psalm-like lilt of praise

sprang from Mary’s lips

extolling the great things

the Mighty One had done for her

Tender were the next three months

as the household awaited Elizabeth’s travail

(and the birth of John, the baptizer)

The women prepared their layettes

folded the swaddling clothes

shared their magnanimous miracles

and confided maternal aspirations

as their bellies swelled

…and I like to think

Joseph ran all the way to Hebron

one day expressly to announce

his own angelic vision in a dream—

that he was to take Mary as his wife

that they would await

the miraculous birth of Jesus—together

Maude Carolan Pych

© 2011

Dear Subscriber,

Merry Christmas & Happy Hanukkah!

It’s time to celebrate these glorious festivals of Light…

and have a blessed New Year…



MAUDE’S CHAPBOOKSOrdering Information:

From My Heart to Yours at Christmas…Cookies & Poems: 32 pages, $7.00*

The Widow’s Song: 47 pages, $8.00*

Mail a check made out to Maude Carolan Pych to the P.O. Box below.


Permission to forward or copy is automatic and encouraged as long as credit is given.

Comments are welcome and appreciated.

After God’s Own Heart Publishing

P.O. Box 2211, Woodland Park, NJ 07424

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Thinking about the shepherds on the night of the Holy Birth...


Shepherds recline around the fire
Their long day’s work is done
The air is crisp, the sky is clear
they watch the setting sun

The sheep that grazed the fields by day
now safely sleep nearby
Men each take night-watch turns
to watch for wolves and foxes, sly

They eat some fish, some barley bread
drink water from the well
draw woolen blankets ‘round them, snug
they laugh and stories tell                           

Suddenly the calm is stirred
by singing in the sky
The shepherds lift their drowsy heads
What’s happening and why?

They can’t believe their ears and eyes
for what they hear and see…
a throng of shining faces, wings
snow white and fluttery!

The rugged shepherds tremble
The angels chant, “Do not fear…
We bring you tidings of great joy
all people need to hear

For unto you is born this day
in little Bethlehem
swaddled in a manger, Christ
The Savior of all men!

Glory to God in the highest!”
sweet angel voices sing
“Peace on earth, goodwill to men”
They proclaim the newborn King!     

As the angels take their leave
the men vow in the morn
they’ll go to Bethlehem and seek
The Christ, the newly born

So with the rising of the sun
each with his staff and rod
the shepherds with their sheep set off…
Their quest, the Lamb of God

Arriving at the humble place
the angels sang about
they enter with resounding praise
and hallelujah shouts!

As the shepherds kneel, adoring
a spotless wooly lamb
approaches the lowly manger
and gently nuzzles the I Am

Maude Carolan Pych

This is another selection from my little Christmas chapbook, From My Heart to Yours at Christmas…Cookies & Poems.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Take a quiet moment...IMAGINE the "real" day to day JESUS



Imagine worshipping a cooing one moment, whimpering the next, born to save us, sweet baby God, lying in a trough filled with scratchy straw, needing a diaper change

Imagine worshipping a stone-kicking, frog-in-pocket, sticky-fingered, tousle-haired God, gleefully splish-splashing through mud-puddles along a rocky Nazareth road

Imagine worshipping a nose-in-the-Scroll, confident little boy-God, teaching in the Temple, confounding elders with astonishing Truths, as His parents search for Him

Imagine worshipping a rugged, long-haired, son-of-a-carpenter adolescent God, as He learns (ironically) to skillfully select woods and deftly wield a hammer and nails

Imagine worshipping a gregarious, life-of-the-party, wedding-guest God, Who miraculously turns stone jars of purification water into jars of finest wine at Cana

Imagine worshipping a child embracing, woe pronouncing, multitude feeding, leper cleansing God, Who walks upon water, instructs the wind and even raises the dead

Imagine worshipping a bread-breaking, wine-offering, foot-washing God, Who soon to be betrayed, beseeches His Heavenly Father, and sweats blood in an olive garden

Imagine worshipping a 30-something, blood-splattered, fist-struck, scourged and spat-upon God, laboriously lugging a cumbersome crossbeam to His own execution

Imagine worshipping a thorn-crowned, sword-pierced, crucified-with-common-criminals sacrificial Lamb of God, as He dies sinless for the sin of the world

Imagine worshipping a resurrected three-days-after-burial God, Who appears ALIVE! Yes, ALIVE! in His own burial garden, in locked rooms and to strangers along the road

Imagine worshipping this crucified, resurrected, gloriously ascending-in-the-clouds, victorious Son of God, Who says, "Go into the world and tell them." Tell them…

He did it for them


Maude Carolan

This poem appears in my chapbook, From My Heart to Yours at Christmas...Cookies & Poems. Scroll to the bottom of the blog for ordering information.

Sunday, November 20, 2011

Christmas is coming...


Matthew 19:14

In a little manger, in a little town,

was born a little boy,

to a little family of little means.

He brought the world great joy!

If the Lord of All could come so small,

with the biggest, highest aim,

then why oh why must we buy and buy

for the day that bears His Name?

We shop, we trim, we bake, we cook,

we visit, we send, we party,

we run up the tally on credit cards,

the bills we pay are tardy.

While the hustle and bustle can be great fun,

sometimes it steals our peace,

sometimes the true Christmas spirit gets lost

when our busyness won’t cease.

From the little manger, the little town,

the crib of the little boy,

comes a little Christmas thought to muse,

which may heighten Christmas joy…

Let us celebrate with littleness,

become as the little Child,

with simplicity, wonder, innocence,

pure Love that’s undefiled…

and The Savior, Our Lord, who was that Child,

shall smile at us, well pleased,

“For the kingdom,” He said, “of Heaven belongs

to people such as these!”

Maude Carolan


This poem was inspired by a sermon delivered by Messianic Pastor/Rabbi Jonathan Cahn of Beth Israel Worship Center, Wayne, NJ. It is included in my chapbook, From My Heart to Yours at Christmas...Cookies & Poems.

Sunday, November 13, 2011

It's the season to gather around the table with our families...


She smiled as she dusted

the framed photographs

on the old oak credenza,

sang as she swept the kitchen floor,

even Lysoled the bathroom bowl

with effervescence.

Humming a spirited hymn, the woman

rolled pastry into a ten inch circle.

She sliced Granny Smiths, brandishing

the sleek, shiny blade with flourish.

Spontaneous praise proceeded from her lips

as she turned the hearty roast

and added onions, carrots and peeled potatoes

to the simmering juices in the pan.

She set the dining room table

with the good dishes,

the good flatware,

her very best linen,

and a milk glass bowl

filled with gold edged roses

from the Mother’s Day gift bush

blooming bountifully in the front yard.

Her feet ached, but her eyes sparkled.

This was among life’s highest joys:

Her adult children would soon be at the door

bringing hugs and tales and laughter

and she would get to serve them Sunday dinner.

Maude Carolan


Sunday, November 6, 2011


except that the sap

which rises

from sturdy old olive roots

flows through the veins

of this grafted branch

I’m not Jewish

except for my flesh

which still shudders

at the Shoah

(of sisters and brothers

of the natural branch)

and the same root

and swears

I’d have done something...


I’m not Jewish

except for my feet

which have walked

the holy, well worn pathways

in Eretz Yisrael

except for my fingertips

which pressed petitions

between stones

of the Western Wall

except for my ears

which perk to the cantoring

of the S’hma

the Aaronic Benediction

the Kiddush

over bread and wine

except for my eyes

which look

upon The Lamb,

my Atonement

except for my lips

which chant

ancient baruchas

to Ha Shem

I’m not Jewish

except for my heart

which bears the cloven mark

of circumcision

and loves Y’shua,

the Jewish Messiah

Who was pierced

for my transgressions

Who shed

His precious Jewish Blood

for me

Maude Carolan

*This poem won third prize for poetry at the annual St. Catherine of Bologna Photo, Art & Poetry Exhibition, Ringwood, New Jersey, in 2010.

Sunday, October 30, 2011


I have to share the most wonderful news with those I love most in this world.

The news I have is more precious, by far, than diamonds or rubies or gold.

There was an enormous void in my life. “Is this all there is?” I would ask.

I searched far to find some meaning in life. It seemed an unknowable task.

One day someone shared the Gospel with me, and I learned that Jesus is real.

I prayed to invite Him into my heart and was filled with astonishing zeal!

The day that He gave His life on the Cross, to save all mankind from our sin,

He opened to us salvation by grace; life eternal, the prize that we win.

You know that I share the best that I have with my cherished family and friends,

so listen, dear one, to this wonderful news upon which ever-after depends.

Just open your Bible to the Gospel of John, third chapter, verse number three,

then read of God’s love in the sixteenth verse to learn what has happened to me.

Some people grow up with Bible in hand, without Jesus burning in heart,

some haven’t explored the true meaning of life, some wouldn’t know where to start.

Whether you’re Protestant, Jewish, my friend, Catholic, Muslim, atheist,

my news is for you and all who will hear, who long to receive of God’s best.

You needn’t become a fanatic or prude, I’ve no list of do nots and dos.

God’s Spirit will teach you all you need know. The offer’s too good to refuse.

Although tribulation may take you by storm and trials may bring a hard test,

God’s greater, He’s faithful, He’ll bring you through to victory. You’ll shine in His rest.

This can be the greatest day of your life, the day you receive the New Birth.

This can be the day you begin to know why we’re the happiest people on earth.

Like me, you will yearn to share the Good News with all of the people you love.

Like me, you will want all those you meet to be touched by our Great God above.

Maude Carolan Pych

*This is my most frequently requested poem.