‘Once I can speak again I will sing, I will praise God.’
Zechariah paced the dirt till he had trampled it into a solid block outside the door.
‘What joy it will be to have a second chance.’
The young daughter of the midwife rushed in with yet more water.
‘I have always been a man of faith, but maybe, just maybe I could have been a bit more faithful, a bit more trusting.’
A chilled wind blew round the house and made Zechariah pull his robe tighter around him.
‘No maybe about it, in future I will believe that with God all things are possible.’
A baby’s first cry reached Zechariah’s ears and a tear ran down his cheek.
‘Soon,’ he thought; ‘ soon, I can sing my song. My life will never be the same more than one new life begins today. God is good.’