Babies at birth are beautiful
warmly welcomed
by a mother’s love.
Jesus was no different,
wrapped in Mary’s love,
yet he was laid in a manger
nestled between
a braying donkey and cow,
not in a sterilized room
surrounded by white robed people
with clinical detachment.
The effort of walking weary ways
clings to Mary and Joseph
new parents
aware and unaware
of their calling
to raise a singular child
human and divine.
Shepherds and straying sheep
fill the sacred space
aglow with a heavenly light,
and I fall in love
with this vulnerable baby
smiling at adoring eyes
brought to a stable
by angels singing Glorias above.
I yearn for peace
and am now in the presence
of the Prince of Peace.
I offer one finger
and wonder of wonders
the infant curls his little fingers
around mine
in a tight embrace,
and I’m no longer afraid.
I shout jubilantly
“You love me!”
and the smell of damp hay
disappears in the cold night air.