I really like kids. My nieces call me a "baby hog."
Since my youngest baby is 20 years old, however, I'm stuck with "kid watching" this Christmas.
I've spotted a few Christmas children. Here is my report.
Happy, Holy and Blessed times to you, Christmas Children !
I see them everywhere. They’re all around me. The Christmas children make me smile.
Three of them plopped down in the church pew next to my husband Sunday. Fourth-grade fidgeters, the little boys giggled through the first hymn. When I asked them to come forward, however, one would think they had sprouted halos. They stood together and read the Bible verse perfectly:
“For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whoever believes in him will not die, but have eternal life.”
They smiled and paused. “John 3:16!” They finished enthusiastically and bounced their way back to their spot beside Brad.
The boys are beloved rough and tumble Christmas children.
Zoe smiles at me from her poster. She is recovering from surgery right now. My teenage friend looks so enthusiastic and full of hope.
Zoe is my brave and hope-filled Christmas child. -Join me in praying for her complete recovery.
The momma rocked her Christmas child back and forth as she sat on the bus stop bench. She was dressed in a ragged coat. He was wrapped head to foot in a blanket, his eyes fluttering closed, his lips puckered in a sleepy pout. He slumbered in spite of the chilly roadside stop.
The bus stop baby is my needy Christmas child.
The 7:45 a.m. Daddy held his little boy in his arms, bouncing him gently while waiting for the school bus. His little girl stood beside him, holding confidently to the corner of his hunting jacket. She was tucked safely beside his pant leg.
The daughter is my contented Christmas child, safe in the shadow of a wonderful father.
The first graders spilled out of the doors of the Primary Center holding their graham cracker “gingerbread” houses in proud little hands. They walked their tippy-toe walk and followed their parents to their cars…homeward bound.
The first graders are my mighty Christmas children.
Timmy’s eyes flew open and we looked at each other for a moment. The wide saucers blinked and a smile filled his face. I remember when I met Tim, a tiny guy dwarfed by feeding tubes and heart monitors. Now his chubby cheeks are dimpled in delight.
Timmy is my miraculous Christmas child.
I hadn’t driven past the Village park at night this season. I was awed by the shimmer of lights I discovered when I made the evening post office run.
I felt so grateful when I saw the manger scene shining. I’m so happy to live in a village where the Nativity can stand in an honored place.
Front and center was baby Jesus.
Jesus is my favorite Christmas child.
Jesus was born for all the rough and tumble, brave and hopeful, needy and safe, mighty and miraculous Christmas children of the world.
No comments:
Post a Comment