A Crippled Child's Christmas Wish
He came to see the children that season of each year,
He listened to them closely as they whispered in his ear.
Each had a special present they wanted so to see
When they got up on Christmas and looked under the tree.
He smiled and he would hug them and pose for pictures, too,
He loved this time with children; it was such fun to do.
One day as he sat talking, he glanced out from his eye
And saw an older child that there was passing by.
He saw him in his wheelchair as he, too, got in line;
He wondered what he’d ask for that he could say, “That’s mine.”
He didn’t have to wait long, for soon the child was there,
And he looked up at Santa with his curly, golden hair.
His smile was warm and friendly, and Santa smiled back, too,
“Now tell me, little fellow, what I can bring for you.”
“I don’t need any presents,” the boy began to say,
“I have just one desire to ask of you today.
You see, I’m just a cripple, as you can plainly tell,
But Santa what I’m asking is can you make me well?”
The question startled Santa, and he began to cry,
He hugged the child closely with tears there in his eyes.
It seemed it was forever he held him in embrace,
Then he looked at the child, with tears there on his face.
He got up from his chair then, not one word did he say,
He took the crippled child to a place not far away.
He pointed to a manger where a small baby lay
And tried between his sobbing to find the words to say.
“I cannot heal you, child, but there’s someone who can;
He once was this small baby, but He became a man.
He healed so many people while He dwelt here below,
And if you trust Him, child, He’ll heal you, too, I know.
For He died for each person--we all have sin’s disease,
And lives again forever, and God with Him is pleased.
You see, I know this Savior, He’s not like Santa Claus;
He’s real and He is living; He came here with a cause.
Some day if you will trust Him, He’ll take you far away
Where you will not be crippled; you’ll run and jump and play.”
The crippled boy looked there then at that child in the hay
And he, too, started crying, then he began to pray.
“Lord Jesus, I believe You, take me, a crippled lad,
Make me Your child forever, help me not to be bad.”
That crippled child was singing as he held out his fist
And shook hands again with Santa, for he had got his wish!
Copyright © Clarence Billheimer | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment