Dear Father, Christmastime is here, and in my hand I hold
A tiny manger made of wood, from Bethlehem, I’m told.
It represents love’s miracle—the gift of Jesus’ birth—
His first night out of heaven, and His first night here on earth.
‘Twill hang upon my Christmas tree with other things I prize—
Some ribbon from my wedding flowers, two monarch butterflies;
A golden curl, a napkin ring, a love note from my son,
A family snapshot, baby shoes, a badge my daughter won.
And God, please do forgive me, but I’m sure You’ve saved a few
Small treasures from Your children that mean everything to You.
They’d look so lovely on Your tree in heaven’s best location
Aglow with some 10,000 stars, left over from Creation.
There’s Gideon’s fleece, two turtle doves, the mites a widow gave,
A broken alabaster box You prized enough to save,
The tiny needle Dorcas used still with a strand of thread,
And there’s a basket from the lad who gave his fish and bread.
A sling You placed in David’s hands to conquer Israel’s foe,
The ax head—though it’s heavy, You will know where it should go.
A little cruse of oil You blessed to last a famine through,
And Moses’ battered rod—he tried so hard to be like You!
And then, around that lovely tree, You may just want to drape
The scarlet cord that Rahab used to help Your spies escape.
These gifts all seem so meager, Lord, but in Your hands I know
They’ll look most exquisite and grand, because You love us so.
Then on that topmost branch could You please place Your brightest Star—
The one that led the Magi bearing treasures from afar?
The shepherds followed it and found—gift-wrapped in swaddling clothes
And gilded with Your heartstrings—their Messiah in repose.
‘Twas tagged “With Love, From God to Mankind” by Your own sweet touch.
Did angels chip in with You, God? It cost so very much!
With joyful tears I give my heart. Lord, I have nothing more!
Please take it—it’s the only thing You’ve ever asked me for.
And Father, may that Star that led the Wise Men from the East
Still shine to guide us on our path, till earth’s dark night has ceased.
Make us reflectors of Your light from Christmas long ago,
And may Your Christmas Day be bright, because we love You so.
Lorraine Hudgins-Olson lives in Hendersonville, North Carolina, and is the author of numerous poems and articles. She is a mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother.