Amidst the pile of trash an angel sifts through torn gift wrap,
crumpled ribbon and battered bows,
searching for the meaning of this human celebration.
Happy Holidays! From: Santa, reads a card in his hand.
The angel shakes his head in sorrow, this wasn't God's plan.
Underneath the tree now empty, except for needles,
the angel knelt and placed a package wrapped in tissue.
To: Marcie, read the card written with a shaky hand.
The last thing written was: Love, Gran.
The wind outside was almost as loud as the family coming through the door.
Shouts of, "Shut the door! It's cold out there!"
and much more.
The phone rang and then the news the family had come to dread.
"It's Grandpa," said Mom, "he's crying...and it sounds like...Gran is dead."
Marcie was in the living room, when her mother got the news.
And suddenly something moved beneath the Christmas Tree.
She picked it up and softly said, "A box and it's made out to me."
Within the box was a note, beneath the note the gift.
What she held, had been her grandmother's-a delicate chain
with a cross hanging from it.
The young girl held the paper with a trembling hand and read:
My last wish for you, my child, and for your family too,
is that you would come to know Jesus and love Him like I do.
You see, Christmas isn't about presents, parties and food galore.
It's not even about Santa, but it is about the Lord.
And though we read the story about the Christ Child's virgin birth,
we forget about the reason that He came here on this earth.
The Child was born so He could die and save us from a fate worse than death.
He went through hellish torture and finally breathed His last.
And it's for this reason, I give to you, this cross you hold in your hand,
so you won't forget the Cross on Christmas and that I love you.
--Kristine J. Trudeau, Christmas 2008