Kevin, my son, you give us such joy,
On this the first Christmas of our ittle boy.
You're not aware of the tinsel and lights,
Or the reason we're happy this night of all nights.

One other infant was born long ago,
And had his first Christmas in a manger so low.
His parents, like us, held him up to the light,
And counted his toes to make sure things were right.
They wrapped him up tight to make him secure;
They named him Jesus, so tiny and pure.
As life's milk from Mary began to flow,
Her mother's heart gladdened to see her son grow.
In wisdom and stature He grew, scriptures say,
In favor with God and with man day by day.

Kevin, my son, you don't comprehend,
But this is where all comparisons end.
Both you and the Christ gave your parents great joy,
But Jesus was more than just their little boy.
All infants born are so perfect and pure,
But Jesus' holiness was to endure.
He had a purpose for living, you see;
To show us how burdened mankind could be free.
The freedom in living, the freedom in dying;
Better than man's way, in spite of his trying.

Mary didn't know as she looked in His eyes,
And angels were bending down low in the skies;
That this child, a gift from the Father above,
Was the Lamb sacrifice who would show us God's love.
A world that was dying in sorrow and sin,
Now had a Savior, could now enter in;
To heaven's kingdom and life full and free,
Salvation, a pure heart, and great victory.

So, Kevin, this Christmas, rejoice, Oh, please do;
The Holy Infant was born for you, too.

-Laura Qualls, Dec., 1975,
written for her son, Kevin, four months old.