A poem for that day…
The beauty was, they all had known,
that the Angel Gabriel’d shown
that trusting was the order here
that neither had no more to fear.
The Christ child born, the visitor’s come
yet still they’d heard it time to run.
It helps to carry little more
than camel hair to be used for
a tiny babe, to swaddle tight
to cuddle in the desert night.
Held close to chest and rocked to sleep
the baby let out ne’er a peep.
Confident they were, and yet,
They looked back to the barn again.
The stable with it’s foot worn hay
had become much more that day
All wrapped up in nails and boards
they’d heard the angel strike a chord,
they’d heard the shepherds oooh and ahhh,
They’d heard the magi from afar.
It had become a womb of life
so stepping out into the night
had not been comfortable, good, or safe
but step they had out from that place
And truth began, a truth marrow deep
as parents stood before the sheep
before the cow, before the horse
before their winding fleeing course
Taking deep breaths and holding hands
they eyed the babe, each other, the sand
and stepped, and stepped, and stepped
and even though while Ramah wept
it’s Savior had at last come in
to save each and all from sin.