I was sipping Eggnog Latte at the corner Starbucks shop,
Contemplating what I’d purchased and the gifts I’d have to swap.
I gazed out at frazzled shoppers, rushing past my windowpane,
When I saw my own reflection and I too was etched with strain.
My exhaustion was distracted by a little redhead boy.
He walked past the festive storefronts, with a smile that just said “joy”.
His freckled cheeks were thin and pale, but they dimpled when he grinned.
I was thinking that his sweatshirt was no match to stop the wind.
As he passed the Starbucks window, I attempted to smile back,
But I felt a stab of conscience, as I wrestled with such lack.
His tennis shoes were wrapped around with tape to make them sturdy.
His jeans were old and mostly holes; his gloves mismatched and dirty.
He held a stack of hand-made signs and a roll of masking tape.
I caught a glimpse of crayon art and what looked like a tree shape.
He had stopped to hang his poster and I cranked my neck to see.
There was but one word written there, but it made no sense to me.
I grabbed my purse and shopping bags and I rushed out in the cold.
I paused to read his sign again, with one word scrawled big and bold.
His poster showed a Christmas tree, in the center was a cross.
“ENUF” was written underneath; but I still felt at a loss.
He was hanging Christmas posters every fifty feet or so,
So I hurried up to catch him, for I really had to know.
“Hey, little boy, can you explain the meaning of your picture?”
“You have invested quite a lot of work into this venture.”
He looked at me with innocence and gave me a toothless grin.
He said, “I think you’ll understand, if you try and look again.”
“You see people keep forgetting just what Christmas is about.”
“So I drawed my Christmas posters so that they could sort it out.”
“See there?” he said with eager eyes, pointing to the Christmas tree.
“Inside the tree I drawed a cross; cuz it fits there perfectly.”
He taped another poster up and he smoothed the edges down.
“Do ya wanna help me hang my posters up all over town?”
“Well, I have a few more errands but I’ll help you for a bit.”
“Why did you write the word: ENUF? And what do you mean by it?”
He looked at me with eyes that spoke of wisdom beyond his days;
“Oh, Jesus is ENUF for me.” He said like a song of praise.
“My mommy lives with Jesus now. She went when I was seven.”
“She taught me that there’d be enuf with Jesus up in heaven.”
“Right now my daddy’s got no job so we don’t have too much stuff.”
“But I don’t care because I know that my Jesus is ENUF!”
I spent the afternoon with him, sticking posters here and there.
That redhead boy with tattered jeans had more than a millionaire.
The wealth of truth he gave to me was worth more than all my stuff,
And I learned with Christ in Christmas, there would always be ENUF!
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