The snowflakes are swirling in sparkling squalls.
A wonderland starts to unfold.
Snow silences straggling sounds as it falls;
The evening is quiet and cold.
But icy extravagance isn't the sight
That sets me a-tingle with glee.
My mind is on tropical climates tonight,
All thanks to my trusty TV.
The ad promised LOST is about to come back.
I'll soon observe ever-torn Kate
And learn whether shepherding's over for Jack.
Does John have too much on his plate?
As Sun and Sayid strive to make their wounds heal
And Sawyer, no doubt, remains surly,
One character carries the greatest appeal:
The island's own Santa Claus, Hurley.
Now, Hurley has neither a beard nor a sleigh.
He favors green clothing, not red.
But he has a list and an uncanny way
Of knowing where joy should be spread.
He may be worth millions, but Hurley has shown
Most meaningful gestures are free:
The warmth of a hug to a friend who's alone.
A jolly diversion or three.
A calm voice of reason. A steadying hand.
A laugh that alleviates fear.
The patience to listen and then understand.
A soft touch assuring, "I'm here."
His generous spirit allows him to give
To even the meanest of men.
He clings to the precept of "Live and let live",
Forgiving folks time and again.
Although he's no longer an islander now,
I trust I'll continue to find
In him an outstanding example of how
To always be gentle and kind.
O Lord, in this season of waiting and hope,
Remind me I don't need an isle
To focus on helping another to cope.
Let me dispense peace with a smile.
Each day, I'll endeavor to be Your reflection,
A light on a turbulent sea.
By Your Golden Rule, we will make a connection,
The huggable Hurleys and me.