The Gift of Christmas

The Gift of Christmas
© 1998 W. Scott Grant
Christmas, 1998

One evening something happened very strange
I was driving home, not far from the range.
Swirling lights and loud engines took me by surprise
Then an extraterrestrial appeared before my eyes.

He signaled me to come aboard his ship
With his laser gun taken from the holster on his hip.
He led me into a small interrogation room
I was overwhelmed by a sense of doom.

They strapped me down then turned on a device.
The steel table and straps were as cold as ice.
A little black box crackled near my head.
It translated everything my captor said.

“Explain to me, Earthling, this celebration of light,”
He demanded. “Colors and symbols – everywhere in sight.
Is it some defense against an armada of war?
We’ve watched you now for years. What is it for?”

When I understood what he meant I laughed aloud
Then suddenly felt sorry for this alien crowd.
“Allow me to explain,” I said. “I’ll tell you the story
Of a little child, born long ago, amid much glory.”

I described how Mary and Joseph came upon a manger
And how angels had foretold, to the otherworldly stranger.
I told him how Jesus came to us, teaching peace
How the Kingdom of God is upon us, our lives a new lease.

I talked about Christmas and its meaning to us
And how it brings out the best – despite all the fuss.
I shared with him the truth in my heart,
But I wondered if my telling had been very smart.

I feared they would see us as weaklings to them,
With their weapons and ships, slaves to their whim.
They could destroy us all before morning light,
I thought myself a fool this lonely dark night.

But he looked at me with a smile on his face.
He said, “You know, I kind of like this place.
Your story touches me, Earthling. It rings true.
I’m going to go home now to tell them about you.”

Then they released the straps and set me free.
And returned me to Earth with my memory.
He shook my hand before he stepped onto the lift.
And said, “Thank you, friend. Thank you for the gift.”

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