The urgent stillness of a dark night road, swithering between rocks, below the robbers’ sight line …a long, tense valley.
Hurry, and the scuttering stones send unwelcome messages into the cool night air.
Amble, and cold time envelopes them in an eternity of anxious travel.
Curved into a tired hoop around her unborn child, Mary endures the slow, unfolding hours. Joseph, beside her, listening for other footsteps, steadies her, walks the way that leads to unwelcoming Bethlehem.
Under his mother’s heartbeat, Jesus grows…he who will give life to others, is reaching towards birth.
He who called the world into being, who sang Creation’s glorious song: held all life in his hands… and lo! he comes now as the smallest part of his own Creation. Not in triumph as a King, but tenderly nestled in sweet hay – small Lamb of God – his life held in other hands, loved, fed, comforted …in a most perfect symmetry.