We gather 'round ornately garnished trees and garland-lit pianos singing carols of peace on earth, goodwill toward men. 'Tis the season of love.
Many, locked arm-in-arm toasting with voices raised in harmonious Joy To The World, lift glasses full of egg-nog; hearts empty. Plastic smiles on mannequin faces. 'Tis the season of hopelessness.
Do we hear the lyrics of their silent night, or merely those of the Holy night? Brightness comes only from lights upon trees barren of gifts; holidays spent alone. No visitors, no phone calls from family or friends. 'Tis the season to be forgotten.
"Said the night wind to the little lamb, do you see what
I see?" Do we look upon our brother without seeing their pain? Hasten not by a weary soul without extend-ing a hand. 'Tis the season of giving; give hope.
And now...
"May the God of your hope so fill you with all joy and peace in believing [through the experience of your faith] that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound and be overflowing (bubbling over) with hope." Romans 15:12
Merry Christmas from my house to yours.
"Do You Hear What I Hear" by Gloria Shayne Baker
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