I am borrowing this from Mozart and Mudpies
If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling lights,
And shiny glass balls, but do not show love,
I am just another decorator.
If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies,
preparing gourmet meals, and arranging a beautifully adorned table,
but do not show love, I’m just another cook.
If I work at the soup kitchen, carol at the nursing home,
and give all that I have to charity, but do not show love to my own family,
it profits me nothing.
If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels and crocheted snowflakes,
attend a myriad of holiday parties, and sing in the choir’s cantata,
but do not focus on Christ,
I have missed the point.
Love stops cooking to hug a child.
Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the spouse.
Love doesn’t envy another home that has coordinated Christmas china
and table linens.
Love doesn’t yell at the kids.
Love doesn’t give only to those who are able to give in return,
but rejoices in giving to those who can’t.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,
endures all things.
Love never fails.
Toys will break; pearl necklaces will be lost; golf cubs will rust.
But giving the gift of love will endure.