Thank-You notes are the bane of Christmas.
For weeks afterwards I’d scrawl
On pieces of plain printer paper
With a word, and perhaps a sketch,
About a gift that I have received.
I rarely received a reply.
Now I am free from this winter toil
But I don’t know what to think.
The world feels off when thanks
Doesn’t accompany a gift,
Appreciated or otherwise,
Its center weighs me down.
God teach me to give thanks so
In humility I may grow.
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