Memories are funny, how they grow with time, Once plain and ordinary, now gentle and divine. When I was young, a bag of fruit and nuts would do, A simple Christmas morning, wrapped in love so true.
Those little acts of kindness, quiet and unseen, Have grown into reminders of what those moments mean. The good stays bright, the lesser fades away, Thank You, God, for shaping memory this way.
Php 1:3 I thank my God upon every remembrance of you
