From out the calm, cold quiet of a crisp December night,
I, sitting by the fireplace, sip cider (what delight!).
My children play together with a simple made up game,
while mother, in the kitchen, misses out. It's such a shame.
A tree stands in the corner with presents on the floor
and my children know, come Christmas, there may be even more.
They've counted days together, keeping Daddy well informed,
insuring I'd remember when Santa must perform.
While pondering their counting, my thoughts are pulled away
To the Christmas's of others who's lives aren't so cliche.
Soldiers fighting in a war would share another view:
their count would be 'til their return to whom their heart was true.
On Christmas day they’d gather and almost sadly sing
Carols cloaked in memories of distant places, better things.
They would wait the time it took, a month, or two, or three
Until at last they celebrate with loving family.
Then I thought of others whose lives were in distress...
the homeless, hungry, lonely... not to mention all the rest.
Were they counting down to Christmas the way my children were?
Did a patient plagued with illness want a present... or a cure?
Shame swept o'er my spirit as I began to pray.
"Lord, thank you for the blessings you bestowed on us today.
Help me reach the others with your wisdom from above,
and help me take your message to a hurting world, with love."
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