Saturday, December 10, 2011


His name was Jakob, forever crippled he'd been.
The son of a widow that worked in the Inn.
As darkness crept in, the roof would his bed keep.
And the heavens would hear him as he fell off to sleep.

"If it be not much trouble, it would bring me much joy
if You could just make me a normal boy."

"Jakob awake!"  He heard a voice say.
"Jakob arise.  Go fluff up the hay."
Jakob awoke as he heard the voice call.
"Jakob away and prepare thee a stall."

He woke up to find there was no one around.
He picked up his crutch and struggled to ground.

He heard beautiful music--soft on the air.
He followed the song 'til a manger was there.
He did what was told by the voice in the night
and prepared he the manger 'til all was just right.

He heard someone coming.  He slipped out and away.
The man carried the woman and set her down in the hay.
And in only a while he heard the sweet lullabye.
As she sang in response to her baby's first cry.

Then up in the heavens, he heard angels sing
in praise of the birth of a Heavenly King.
Shepherds bore witness.  Wismen adored
as they brought in fine gifts to give to the Lord.

Jakob gazed on, and caught Mary's eye.
"Come close here my son.  You've no cause to be shy.
Come close here beside me. Would you like to see too?
Come see my baby.  He'd love to see you."

She drew back the blanket from the Babe's holy face.
He leaned down and kissed the cheek 'neath the lace.

Jakob loved the wee babe as he'd not loved before.
He knew he'd never be able to love anyone more.
A tear found his eye and then fell to his cheek.
He whispered to Mary in a voice frail and meek.

"I own not a gift to give to your Child."
He continued to whisper in a voice meek and mild.
"I own not a thing...not even a toy.
All I own is a crutch of a not-normal boy."

Then Mary replied "Your crutch will do fine.
Remember dear Jakob in our Father's own time.
All will rejoice and all will find joy
that they too were loved by a not-normal boy.

Jakob laid down his crutch; kissed the Christ child once more
and found himself normal as he walked t'ward the door.

Copyright 1995
Susie Whiting

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