Blessed be the One Who made us.
Blessed be the One Who made me—
made me a man who as a boy fell in
love with Christmas and never recovered—
made me a man who makes wishes on
December stars and calls them prayers—
made me a man who trusts implicitly
in angels and shepherds and the trembling virgin
and George Bailey and little Natalie Wood—
made me a man who would gladly sell the
current equivalent of my watch to buy the
current equivalent of those combs for her hair—
made me a man who weeps when he hears
the first noel and smells the scent of balsam and
hold the ornaments of Christmases long ago.
Blessed be the One. Bless us every one.