Many , many years ago, a teenage girl gave birth.
In a dark and lowly stable, on the straw and damp, cold earth.
All of heaven watching as the babe became a boy,
learned to talk, play and walk,
Firstborn pride and joy.
Every time he stumbled his mother ran to see.
Wipe his tears, still his fears, bandage wounded knees.
When he had a fever she would swaddle him with love,
rocking, singing lullabies,
witnessed from above.
His father taught him Carpentry, a boy should learn a trade.
His oldest son, “Beloved One,” a young man to be made.
Teaching all the skills he knew, walk tall and unafraid,
schooling him as best he could,
for the rest he prayed.
So it was he grew in years.
Learned to teach and heal.
Gentle, kind and gracious,
Stamped with Heaven’s seal.
Mary cried a thousand tears, the day her Jesus died.
Pierced and torn in anguish, as the spear plunged in His side.
Lifting hands to Heaven, for God’s Mercy to prevail.
Far beyond a mother’s heart, as God allowed each nail.
Even Angels closed their eyes, that day upon the Cross.
The Holy One, God’s only Son,
Born to die, to save the lost.
The veil was torn, and Hope reborn as Jesus rose again.
“The Christmas Child,” unwrapping God, every day since then.
Celebrate Emmanuel, His birth and crucifixion.
His Grace and Living Presence, with hearts of true conviction.
Regift His Love each moment, tell others of His story.
So much more than once a year,