Christmas 1



As I survey this wondrous mess
I check my list and then confess:
I know someone has been forgotten.
I look at gifts piled to the sky,
I search my list, then heave a sigh–
I wish I knew who I’d forgotten!
I have a gift for Mom and Dad,
The one for Sis will make her glad.
But still I know someone was missed.
I’ve got gifts for all my cousins,
My aunt and uncle will get a dozen.
But which name ain’t on my list?
There’s one for Joe and the boy next door;
Because I love him, Sam gets four.
But still I wonder who I forgot.
I check my list and heave a sigh
As I search my piles and start to cry–
For now I know who I forgot.

I wonder how I could have missed
The one that wasn’t on my list.
For as I see this mess I made<
I think of the child that Mary laid
Upon a manger bed so low.
He was the reason I’d made a list
And his was the name that I had missed.

              Kathi Phillips


White is more than just
The color of Christmas Snow
As it falls upon the world.
White was the color
Of the swaddling clothes
In which Mary wrapped the Babe
That first Christmas day.
White was the color
Of flapping wings
As angels sang that night.
White was the color
Of sheep on a hill
While shepherds heard the song
And white is the color
Of a heart
Washed by the blood
Of the Babe born that night.

          Kathi Phillips


“There is no room,”
So the owner said.
“There is no place
To put a bed,
Not even space
Around my table,
The only room
Is in the stable.
You’ll find a place
To lay your child
Among the cattle
And sheep so mild
If you don’t mind
A manger stall:
A feeding trough
That’s lined with straw.”

“There’s still no room,”
We say today.
“There is no space
Within my heart;
There is no place
For love to start.
I’d rather do
It all my way.”
You’ll find a place
For love to grow
Within a world
That hate would sow
If your heart
Is a manger stall
To lay the child,
Once so small.
His love within
Your heart will grow
And room you’ll find–
God’s peace to know.

          Kathi Phillips


Christmas isn’t really presents
Wrapped in pretty paper
Tied with brilliant ribbons;

Christmas isn’t really
Just the gifts we get
(Or even those we give);

Christmas isn’t really
Money that we spend
And all the time we run about
Seeking the perfect gift:

Christmas isn’t really
The many friv’lous things
We focus attention on.

Christmas is really a Gift
Wrapped in swaddling clothes
Laid in a lowly manger;

Christmas is really
One Gift
Already received;

Christmas is really
The time we spend with others
Sharing God’s most precious Gift;

Christmas is really
The giving of God’s only Son.

          Kathi Phillips


A plenitude of parties,
A preponderance of presents,
A multitude of huge meals–
So many things that pull us
As we prepare for Christmas morn.
Decorations must go up,
Gifts and cards be bought and wrapped.
And all that food must be prepared–
Diversions that now rule us
As our homes we do adorn.
We forget the humble birth,
The single, most wondrous gift,
With a star as only decoration
When a Savior came to rule us;
On the day that Christ was born.
As you now prepare for Christmas,
Remember God’s loving gift
As he gave his only Son.
May Christ be the one to pull us
As we prepare for Christmas morn.

          Kathi Phillips


Christmas is the time of gifts
Which do you choose to receive:
The first Gift
Given by God
That brings eternal joy,
Or gifts received
From some unknown Santa
That bring only present pleasure?
Or the best Gift
That can ne’er be broken,
Or are you centered
On tangible things
That break all too soon?
The depth of the joy
You’ll find at Christmas
Depends on whether you prefer
To seek after the Gift of God
Or the gifts of Santa Claus.

             Kathi Phillips