Christmas comes and I pray.
May I be present for the deeply-holy, twilight-emergence of a manger-ed babe. May I, like Mary, hear and obey angelic commands to carry a child ‘done unto me’. May I, like Joseph, protect what is yet vulnerable. Like shepherd or wise man, bow to divine delivery.
What whispered possibility, what un-thought world, arrives with the babe that chooses when and with whom to make its entrance?
What wants to be born in me? Not of flesh, but of spirit. What is yet unshaped … seeking attention? Asking for my consent and protection, my care and humility. What service and satisfaction await?
May I follow the bright star of the divine baby’s birth, tend its cries and meet its promise.