Stable eyes and the Christmas season
Father, it is only a small cry mingling with the young girl Mary's low moans, the anxious beating of Joseph's heart as he bends close to her, the restless pawing of perplexed animals in the soft dirt.
Such a brief sound dropped in the straw, just as Heaven's veil splits open above terrified shepherds hunkered in the night fields with their docile flocks. How is a newborn's wail heard over their fearful howls and the sudden mad bleating of the sheep? How is it not silenced beneath that glorious angelic uproar filling the sky?
But You, Father, are attuned to this one squalling note among all the others. It is the cry of Your Son. It is my cry. I AM born.
Become a Subscriber!
You have read all of your free articles this month. Select a plan below to start your subscription today.
Already a subscriber? Login
