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The Ultimate Gift by Bill Childers

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He came for me, but I couldn't understand,
Nobody ever cared about me that way.
Oh, every now and then
I was allowed to win,
But, it was just another game to play.

He talked about loving my neighbor,
About giving without getting, even a touch.
Oh, I cared about my friends,
Helped them now and then,
But, you just can't get involved too much.

He was angry, they say, about the money-changers
Who were "using" the people that day.
When they wouldn't be fair
He showed them "another way to care"...
He hastened to send them on their way!

He's been far too patient with allowances
In guiding me through my days.
If He only gave me
What it took to save me...
I'd still be far too much overpaid!

Bill Childers
Copyright : 2003

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A Pause...

One to inspect,
One to interject,
One to respect,
One to elect,
One to reject
One to Praise.

Bill Childers
Copyright : 2003

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Measure of a Gift

Humankind always seeks a measure
To truly tell the tale.
Oftimes it drains the pleasure,
And turns the experience stale.

This seems to hold true for a gift,
Whether the 'label' is 'high' or 'low';
Whether the presentation will lift
One's ego by the name it bestows!

Oh, we speak much of, "It matters not",
Or, "Just anything will do";
But, when the line is an inferior lot,
A let-down is certain to ensue.

Ah, but when we speak of that called love
From a father to a growing child;
Of the lines of sharing life be wove
To create a wise and knowing child.

Ah, that's when one begins to know depth,
That which surpasses the flighty tad...
And, the label "gift" seems a bit unkept
As if one begins to feel he's been bad!

And, so, it really matters little, or not
The tag fastened to the delivery label...
When one begins to really know what he got,
P'haps much like the Gift... from the stable.

So, can a 'gift' really be measured to sight,
Can it be known to be bad, or worthwhile'?
Or, must one's gaze travel past a darkest night...
Til one reaches a mark past the last mile?

Bill Childers
Copyright : 1982

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