Child

(I wrote this a couple of Christmases ago.  I think it's evident why I'm not a poet.)

Child



Four years old.




First one awake.



Lying abed, saying,



"Happy Birthday, Jesus."



Can't wait anymore.



Run to den.



Christmas tree glowing.



"Santa" has come.



I already know--



It's not Santa--



Mom and dad!



There's still presents!



Strawberry Shortcake and



Tupperware play set.



Lite Brite and



Other random things.



Sister and parents.



(No brother yet.)



Playing with toys.



Eat Christmas brunch--



Maybe, or not--



I don't remember.



Was there a



Cake for Jesus?



(We used to



Do that every



Year at Christmas.



But not anymore.)



Go to Grandma's.



Family and food.



More presents there.



Aunt Barby wrapped



Hers in paper



From Sunday comics.



I liked that.



Smells all around.



Perfume and tobacco



Dogs and cats



Other random smells



That were normal



For Christmas, like



Cinnamon and Peppermint.



Maybe there's snow,



I can't remember.



Mom says something.



I do remember.



She told me,



"The older you



Get, you'll want



To give more



Than you receive."



I was four



And I looked



At her like



She was crazy.



Who would ever



Want to give



Better than getting?



Mom was smart.



Mom was right.



Mom's often are.



Right, that is.



It is better



To give than



To get stuff.



This Christmas is



Different from others.



Christmases will never



Be like they



Were before, but



They've been changing



For a while.



Grandma's not here.



There's more family.



Young cousins, nieces



And nephew get



To experience their



Own childhood Christmases,



While I spectate.



I'm not four.



I'm grown up.



Christmas is still



Magical to me.



There's still wonder.



I'm still the



First one up.



I still lie



In bed, saying,



"Happy Birthday, Jesus."



And I know



The gift He



Gave to us



Is better than



Anything we could



Ever try giving.



But He doesn't



Ask for much.



Gold, Frankincence, Myrrh.



What are these



Gifts to the



King of Kings,



Lord of Lords?



There's nothing we



Have that He



Could ever need.



The angels said



It was for



His good pleasure



That God gave



Peace to mankind,



Glory to Himself.



And if He



Finds pleasure in



Giving to us--



Becoming a servant



Seeking and saving



All the lost--



Well, He's God.



He can do



Whatever He wants.



When you create



The universe you



Get to make



All the rules.



That's the deal.



Our worth is



Only from Him.



And so I



Must receive more



Than I give.



It's full circle.



Growing up means



For me, anyway,



Learning to give



More than receive,



But also, learning



To receive what



I can't give--



From the Lord



Who has grace



Enough to spare.



And suddenly I'm



A child again.