By an unknown author
If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows, strands of twinkling
lights
and shiny balls, but do not show love, I'm just another decorator.
If I slave away in the kitchen, baking dozens of Christmas cookies,
preparing
gourmet meals and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime,
but do not
show love, I'm just another cook.
If I work at the soup kitchen, carol in the nursing home and give all
that I have to charity, but do not show love, 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 the cooking to hug the child.
Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the husband.
Love is kind, though harried and tired.
Love doesn't envy another's home that has coordinated Christmas china
and table linens.
Love doesn't yell at the kids to get out of the way, but is thankful
they are there to be in the way.
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.
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