Conversation Between Father, Daughter About Mother's Death
CHRISTMAS SHOPPING
Before the days of Christmas,
I shopped everywhere.
I couldn't stand the music.
I couldn't stand the glare.
The thing that I most wanted
was to go out on a walk.
God listens to me best
when I am free to talk.
God listens to me best
when I can see His love.
It's in His trees and bushes,
and even in God's dove.
But when I walk through stores,
and concern myself with things
it's just as if He never came,
and all my thoughts are dreams.
I would rather address Christmas cards
whenever I feel like it.
No one else would understand,
but I know I'd really like it.
Tradition makes a fool of me,
and ties me with life's string.
Every year I fight the crowds
and destroy what God wants to bring.
This year I'm going to be a friend
to those I don't yet know.
I'm going to spread the love of God
wherever I may go.
And if I can't get those
December Christmas wishes out,
everyone will know by January
God has been about.
Christmas is reality.
It's the story of God's Son.
It isn't bags or tassels,
or treasures to be won.
As I was getting off the escalator
in front of me just ahead,
a lady with a torn up bag
smiled at me and said:
"They certainly don't make bags
like they did Christmas' before."
"That's probably not a real bag," I said.
"They don't make them anymore."
Janet Marie Bingham
Copyright © Janet Bingham | Year Posted 2018
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