In This Article
Courtney Mabie, Success Coach at Freedom House, wrote this poem.
I’ll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
But this year, I’m at Freedom House,
With hope far away it seems.
I hear the kids, their laughter light,
Their eyes were so full of wonder,
Searching for where the stockings go,
And where their present may be under.
They wait for Santa with sleepy smiles,
Who might have a box with their name,
To feel that Christmas magic,
And not just the season’s shame.
They can’t climb down the stairs to gifts,
or decorated cookies laid neat.
Instead, they wait beside the door,
Hoping for something sweet.
A doll, a car, a teddy bear,
Some small thing to hold tight,
But mostly they dream of something more,
A home just out of sight.
I see them sneaking ‘round the walls,
Their little faces are drawn,
As if they’re searching for a place,
Or magic at Christmas morning’s dawn.
I’ll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dreams.
A roof, a room with the fireplace glow,
Lights twinkling off house beams.
And I, their mother, stand and wait,
Hands bare and pockets thin,
Wishing I could give them more,
But there’s nothing to even begin.
I wish to hang stockings with care
By a fire that softly sparks,
But all I have is this one room,
Where the silent night embarks.
I can’t promise them a tree,
With lights and presents delight,
But I hold them close as I whisper soft,
“We’ll get through this night.”
Because next year
We’ll have a home for Christmas,
A place to call our own.
A place where joy can settle in,
And peace will finally be known.
But this year, we’re here together,
At Freedom House, we stay.
I’ll be home for Christmas,
Just not in the way, I pray.
This year, I’ll be homeless for Christmas,
A mother with a broken heart,
But I’ll hold them close and promise them,
Next year, we’ll have a brand-new start.
For now, it’s hope in little things,
And dreams we dare to scheme.
I’ll be home for Christmas,
If only in my dream.
