Every year at this time, I give birth. Which is miraculous because what you don’t yet know about me is that, for many years now, My Beloved and I have been unable to have children. It has been, simply, the most wrenching, most lingering sorrow of our lives. Even as I share this, I’m astounded that I’m doing so. If you knew how closely I’ve guarded this in my heart, if you knew how long it took me ever to tell anyone, if you knew how much the shame from this has weighed me down, you might be astounded, too.
But nevertheless, every year at this time, I give birth.
“For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given ….”
Unto you and, even, graciously, unto me.
So come let us adore Him.
The One who came to fill, overflowing, the bereft and empty places of our hearts.
Your Child.
And my Child.
And our Child.
Was going to ask you about that but didn’t have the nerve. So sorry. I know the ache and I’m not even married yet. My niece always brings it home to me, too.
Just got word last weekend that friends-of-a friend (who had already gone through 3 miscarriages) had lost their son. He was born at 25 weeks, slightly larger than the size of a dollar bill… We had pictures of him, we had a prayer chain. We were so hopeful…
What a miracle. What a blessing. That God would let us entertain this angel for two whole weeks. We are forever in His debt.
How much more can be said for the perpetual birth of our beautiful Babe?
“And a little child shall lead them.”
“You shall call Him Emmanuel… ‘God with us’.”