It wasn’t filled with celebration
that first Christmas season.
Anticipation for birth is supposed to be exciting:
Moms, cousins, friends…
advice, commiserating, nesting
– not tinted with overtones of shame
That first season, there were no lights, no decorations… no family.
There was only a growing belly
There was only rumor of civil unrest.
There was only an unknown man,
leading an unknown woman,
weathering a myriad of unknown “what nows?”
trekking to a very dark and distant land
This was not a Pinterest worthy pregnancy:
aching feet, a cloak of darkness, lingering scandal and heavy womb jarred by every step
Frequent potty breaks, endless miles to worry
Do you tell Joseph you think the baby’s coming?
Will he even know what to do?
Is this really how God’s child is meant to be born?
…Oh please let this be indigestion.
And, how do you keep yourself from the madness of so many unanswered questions?
… You don’t.
… You press in, and trust what you remember.
Remember his words?
Remember life leaping at Elizabeth’s God-sent words?
“…May it be done to me …”
“My soul doth magnify the Lord…”
“for the Mighty One has done great things for me”
And oh, just look at that star
And oh, just feel the strength of this man walking beside you
And oh, keep walking with every ounce of your strength
Because In the midst of this darkness
Love holds your hand
and Peace is birthed in all its star-studded Hope