Sunday, 13 January 2013

If Someone Famous Came to My House - poem

A delightful poem introduced to us by a visiting preacher this morning. It just occurred to me that you could create a piece of writing based on having someone important to you visit your house.








"If Jesus came to my house and knocked upon the door, I'm sure I'd be more happy than I've ever been before. 

If Jesus came to my house, I'd like him best to be, about the age that I am, and about the height of me. 


I'd run downstairs to meet him, the door I'd open wide, and I would say to Jesus, 'Oh won't you come inside?'

I'd offer him my rocking chair, it's such a comfy seat, and at the pleasant fireplace, He'd warm His little feet.


My kitten and my puppy dog would sit beside his chair, and they would be as pleased as I at seeing Jesus there.
Then I would put the kettle on to make a cup of tea, and we would be as happy and as friendly as could be.

I'd show him all the places that are nicest in the house, the hole behind the stairs, where I pretend that I'm a mouse.
The little window up above where I can stand and see the people passing down below and yet they can't see me.

And then I think I'd show Him the corner in the hall, where I'm sometimes frightened by the shadows on the wall.
I always have to hurry when I'm going past at night, but hand in hand with Jesus I'd be perfectly all right.

I'd show him round the garden and ask Him please to bless, the seeds that I have planted, the peas and watercress.
And if the flowers I'd planted were blooming on that day, I'd pick a bunch of all the best, for Him to take away.

Then while He held the basket I would gather two or three of the ripest rosy apples from my special apple tree.
And all the little birds would come and twitter up above, for joy at seeing Jesus in the garden that they love.

And then we'd play with all my toys, my nicest toys of course, and He should have the longest ride upon my rocking horse.
And with my bricks I'd build for him a palace of His own, and He should be the little King and sit upon the throne.

And when we'd done we'd stack the toys all neatly on the shelf, but first I'd let Him choose the best and keep them for Himself.
And when at last the day was done and shadows crossed the sky, I'd see Him to the garden gate and there we'd say good-bye, And He'd perhaps say, "Thank you for a lovely afternoon," and I would say, "I do hope you'll come back very soon."

And then He'd smile and wave good-bye, and so would end our day, but all the house would seem to smile because He'd been our way.I know the little Jesus can never call on me in the way that I've imagined, like coming in to tea.

But I can go to His house and kneel and say a prayer, and I can sing and worship Him and talk with Him in there.
And though He may not occupy my cozy rocking chair, a lot of other people would be happy sitting there.

And I can make Him welcome as He Himself has said, by doing all I would for Him for other folk instead.







So who would you like to speak to in your own front room? For me it could be as diverse as Winston Churchill and Charles Dickens to John Lennon. My problem would be controlling the star struck, tongue tied, shy me!

God Bless