A crackling fire, tongues of flame,

So mesmerizing through the dark.

The old man resting, squat and tame,

With thoughts now flowing from that spark.

A life of love from cherished ones,

Six angels perfect in his eyes.

Yet now before last setting suns,

He prayed his words not be unwise.

 

“Oh, hey there, Pops,” they all had said,

“What presents would you like from us?

For Christmas lies not much ahead,

So, tell us, please, without a fuss!

What gifts will make you jump for joy?

What things will set your heart aflame?

What clothes, what books, is there a toy,

Or should we find for you a game?”

 

The old man laughed, his silence broke,

But even flames could not respond,

In darkness, they can’t see the joke,

Nor comprehend the lasting bond

That lifts the hearts of good men high,

As fathers, husbands, and grandpops,

And leads to words that mystify

The objects of their kindly props.

 

A clamor soon would follow him

Should he convey the simple truth.

An old man’s heart might seem but whim

To those not long beyond their youth.

They would not see the times he cried,

The times he pled to God above,

The many times that he had tried

To bring them back to His great Love.

 

The old man rustled in his chair,

The embers warming sagging cheeks.

A warmth within burst through the air,

The Spirit knowing what he seeks:

“A Christmas gift is what they ask—

A splendid chance to find their way.

Perhaps you could achieve your task,

The thing for which you often pray.”

 

And so, with lips upturned he stirred,

And shot a glance to his e-pen.

He’d draft a list they’d think absurd,

Until a day they’d think again—

Perhaps just after his swan song,

Or maybe sooner, with some luck—

His offspring would not think him wrong.

Their hearts might then in love be struck.

 

He paused not long on item one

For Christmas meant only one thing—

Adore God’s one begotten Son,

Exalt the birth of blessed King.

The Old Man wept o’er thoughts so meek,

He’d failed his children in this way,

Not Lord, they had commenced to seek,

Their worldly goals led them astray.

 

No blame for them, for ‘twas his fault

For pushing, prodding each to thrive.

Succeed they had, he’d never halt

Ambition leading them to strive

To make their marks on this great Earth,

For good, he hoped, for humankind.

They’d make a name, they’d prove their worth,

For goodness in them was enshrined.

 

It mattered not from whence the cause

That they forgot Who made it so,

For virtue’s not from human laws.

Our souls get pulled all to and fro.

The Father fills them full of love,

And Jesus keeps redeeming them,

But life keeps up its constant shove,

Thus, Spirit helps our tempts to stem.

 

And so, first item on the list

Of gifts the Old Man so desired

Was for his offspring to be kissed

By God, their souls to be refired

To spend some time with Him alone,

To try, at least, to read His way,

To sense again a joy well known,

Attending church, and there to pray.

 

The Old Man rubbed his grizzly beard,

Was this request a gift too much?

He’d moderate it or he feared

The ask would just become a crutch,

A reason to avoid the gift,

For some their faith had fallen far,

Too much too soon might cause a rift—

They might ignore the rising star.