A BEAUTIFUL POEM FOR THE CHRISTMAS

To everyone of all Faiths, may you find peace, love and joy during your own special celebration.  

The Littlest Christmas Tree

by Amy Peterson

The littlest Christmas tree

lived in a meadow of green

among a family

of tall evergreens.

He learned how to whisper

the evergreen song

with the slightest of wind

that came gently along.

He watched as the birds

made a home of twigs

and couldn't wait till

he too was big.

For all of the trees

offered a home,

the maple, the pine and the oak,

so strong.

"I hate being little,"

the little tree said,

"I can't even turn colors

like the maple turns red.

I can't help the animals

like the mighty old oak.  

He shelters them all

in his wide mighty cloak."

The older tree said,

"Why, little tree, you don't know?

The story of a mighty King

from the land with no snow?"

Little tree questioned,

"A land with no snow?"

"Yes!" said old tree,

"A very old story,

from so long ago.

A star appeared 

giving great light

over a manger,

on long winter's night.

A baby was born,

a King of all kings,

and with Him comes love

over all things.

He lived in a country

all covered in sand,

and laid down His life

to save all of man."

Little tree thought of the gift

given by Him,

then the big tree said with the

happiest grin.

"We're not just trees,

but a reminder of that day

There's a much bigger part

of a role that we play!

For on Christmas Eve

my life I'll lay down,

in exchange for a happier,

loving ground.

And as I stand dying

they'll adorn me in trim.

This all will be done

in memory of Him.

Among a warm fire,

with family and friends,

in the sweet songs of Christmas,

I'll find my great end.

Then ever so gently,

He'll come down to see

and take me to heaven,

Jesus and me.

So you see, little tree,

we are not like the oak

who shelters all things

beneath his great cloak.

Nor are we like 

the maple in Fall,

whose colors leave many

standing in awe.

The gift that we give

is ourselves, limb for limb,

the greatest of honor,

in memory of Him."

The little tree bowed

his head down and cried

and thought of the King

who willingly died.

For what kind of gift

can anyone give

than to lay down his life

when you wanted to live?

A swelling of pride

came over the tree.

"Can all of this happen

because of just me?

Can I really bring honor

by adorning a home,

by reminding mankind,

that he's never alone?"

With this thought, little tree

began singing with glee

happily and proud

to be a true Christmas tree.

You can still hear them singing

even the smallest in height,

singing of Christmas 

and that one Holy Night.

Merry Christmas!