As she looks through the window on Christmas Eve
What kind of world will my great granddaughter see?
Will her tomorrows be filled with wonder and awe?
Or will our todays prevent her from seeing the wonder of it all?
She peers through the window pane with her wistful eyes
and watching, I ponder her future with tender sighs.
Who can fathom the future or know its mystery?
We only know of yesterday because we have a history.
The future unknown, she gazes out the window still
as she leans against the window sill.
And great grandad begins to dream a dream
of all that she may become in the midst of life’s stream.
Perhaps, he dreams, she will be a person who cares,
reaching out to embrace God’s people everywhere.
Maybe she will become a person of hope,
who knows when it fades just how to cope.
Great grandad looks out the window this last day of the year,
as his great granddaughter did on Christmas Eve, and dreams.
He sees the barren trees, brown grass, and yes, the rising of the sun,
and knows, deep down, that at the heart of this world is Love.
Looking out the window of both history and the present,
one has difficulty seeing this love ascend.
The days are sometimes dark as night, but light comes,
and as we look through the window; the darkness succumbs.