"What is Christmas?" My friend said one day--
(I'm afraid his faith had gone astray)
Well-it began one night in old barn stall
when a wee baby boy made a reckoning call,
His mission divine, by His Father God,
was to bring love where ever He trod.
The advent of Messiah was long foretold-
and the shepherds in the hills saw the star of
the ancient wise men saw the star as well-
and the song of the Angels rose to a swell--
"Sing Allelujah, the Christ is born-
strike the cymbal-trumpet the horn!!"
What then is Christmas? Oh you need to pray--
Feel the spirit of this precious day!
The eyes of a child when falls the first snow,
the twinkling lights that make his face glow.
A child's excitement when Daddy comes home
from far away lands with temple like domes.
The tears of a Mom when she opens the door
to a son she thought she'd see no more.
The warmth you feel from feeding someone
who's hopeless and helpless, but still God's
What is Christmas then? Oh ye of little faith-
do you dream of spirits and misty wraith?
Today I sit and contemplate the rush of life
in which we seal our fate,
in material things and financial drone--
enough of this-I'm going home!
I can see my Mother heave a great sigh,
as she watches the cars rushing on by.
I can see the tree lit with old fashioned
I can see Mom's kitchen cozy and bright.
I can smell the mince and pumpkin pies,
and oh! the love in my Mother's eyes,
and she says--"You're home!"
Now---what is Christmas?
'Tis love, my friend- 'twas from the beginning,
'twill be to the end.
BETTY C. DANIELS©