The Gift
In the midst of an occupied Land
And in the humblest of shelters,
God visited his people, silently, faithfully
In this season of commercial cacophony
As a madcap rushing fills our hours,
Quietly a man and woman travel to their tribal home.
Their mission, amid a roiling census, is directly focused,
To a place, for an event, within their roots.
Go register your name, fulfill your destiny, come home.
Life is not relative, no, it is relatives.
And, even for those estranged, God provides one.
Who can deny a newborn child, the gift of God?
Have we not known moments of joy,
When the darkness was dispelled by a single light?
Did we, then, give thanks to the spirit of Love?
He came, now comes and promises forever
To melt the hearts of stone, or ice or pain.
Companion for the traveler, lover to the lost.
Angels appear in the midst of chaos,
God intervenes when hope is gone,
A child often turns self into selfless
Thus, once again. . .for unto us a child is born
A child. . .of God.
Ft. Bob Adams
2007