The Real Meaning Of Christmas

I awoke Christmas morning and rushed to the tree
To open all the gifts that were given to me.
My excitement was not disappointed at all
As my stocking hung over a gracious windfall.

I opened the boxes as I there kneeled;
Ripped off the wrapping to see what each concealed.
I had received various gifts of all kind.
Each and every one was now fully mine.

Next I began to bask in my giving.
Did I not exemplify true Christian living?
Had I not purchased gifts for everyone?
Were mine not the most expensive and the most fun?

Feeling quite elated, I went out for a walk.
I saw a pitiful old man so I stopped to talk.
He wore a large smile but was dressed haggardly.
And I noticed his tree and beneath were empty.

He said the gifts he'd received he'd given to others,
That from his giving some might become Christian brothers.
You see, Christmas is not about buying and selling,
But about where souls will be eternally dwelling.

Did you not know on the first Christmas morn--
The one on which the Christ child was born--
The only gift that was given that day,
Was given by God and rested on hay.

Lord, how could I be so haughty and conceded?
The love you've given me I've sorely mistreated.
Help me, Father, from this Christmas on
Give not my presents, but the gift of your Son.

The first Christmas card I designed for my brothers and sisters in Christ on CC

I wrote a poem with that title too. I'll have to find it.