December...a time of beautiful sights;
Of laughter and singing and Christmas tree lights.
The stockings are hung by the chimney with care
In hopes that large presents next morning are there;
But on Christmas even as wrapping is flying
The joy in our hearts begins slowly dying.
Soon Christmas joy is become Christmas blah,
Where no shepherds or wise men are bent down in awe.
No star, no manger, no sheep, no cow;
Just errands and a baby that needs changing now.
We do our chores, send our children back to class,
Then we sit and we wonder: why doesnít it last?
We think of the presents, we think of the season;
We think: Was it worth it-what was the reason?
But what if we saw in each childís face
A cradle of straw and incredible grace.
Then Christmas would be more than December;
Each babyís birth a chance to remember
That Godís greatest gifts are not showy with trappings,
They come in small packages with the humblest of wrappings.
Read more articles by Glenn Washburn or search for articles on the same topic or others.