"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 gold,

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 son.
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--
and think--
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 lights,
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©
DEC.8/04©
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