Merry Christmas 2020! Truly, what a year this has been. I wanted to share a poem I wrote with you in 1996 after attending a church service in Richmond, Virginia on Christmas Eve. I walked through my door, after service, and the following poem began to flow.

God bless you all this beautiful season,

Molly

P.S. I didn't even know I could write poetry!

The Christ Child

We gathered Christmas Eve in the church to praise His name.

The child who was born of a virgin, Mary was His mother's name.

Songs were sung to glorify the Father for sending His only Son, born many years before.

A story was told of the child in a manger and a star that led wise men who had come to bear gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to honor the baby who was born of a virgin Mary.

The rafters shook as the voices rang with joy that night, rejoicing in the birth of the little boy.

It seemed as if all of heaven rejoiced!

Mary would raise Him as her son and call Him Jesus, the name that God had chosen.

She knew she was looking upon the Christ who was sent to save the world from its sin. She wondered how. What would become of Him?

The singing stopped, and we bowed our heads to thank God above for sending His one and only Son.

My heart welled up with sadness because I knew that Jesus had been born to die for all of us.

Tears rolled down my face as I walked away from the church that night because I finally knew that I would never forget what Christmas was all about. Christmas wasn't about the gifts, the food, and the decorations; there wasn't a baby in a manger to adore once a year at Christmas.

The Christmas story was about the Christ who came one night, lowly in a manger, so I could be set free and live with Him for all eternity.