They travelled, slowly, only a donkey and some blankets and their love. She rode, her dark blue robe hiding her swollen belly but not lightening the weight within her that shifted with the donkey's gait, his backbone hard and sharp and uncomfortable. But the animal neither stumbled nor stopped. Campfires of nomads and shepherds dotted the dark horizon as they neared the town, a few lights in the huts and houses shining brightly in the thickening dusk and they travelled to Bethlehem to pay taxes.

Unable to find a hostel in the little town with narrow dirt streets, they boarded in a stable, and the child was born through hard labor and pain, but she remained quiet and strong and held him in her arms when he was born. He slept in a manger, up off the ground, a most humble and simple bed.

The shepherds nearby heard with fear and amazement from the host of heavens, and came and expressed joy and wonder at the birth of the baby, and she heard their voices and pondered the meaning of their words in her heart.

When her child was named, the man in the temple held her babe in his arms and said he could die now because he had seen salvation, and that the child would be the light and the glory, and would be a sign spoken against, and she felt as though a sword pierced her heart.

A star in the heavens was shining, clear and brilliant and silver in the dark sky.



Remember to give love that you may receive it.

I will be back on the 29th. Peace to you all.