As I sit under the glow of our Christmas tree, mind wandering back to that day, my eyes fall upon a humble little nativity scene.
A toy really. A simple way to teach our miracle about The Miracle. As I gaze at this simple scene, my eyes meet Mary's for a moment... and I am in awe.
Knowing how I took the news of our child on the way, I try and imagine all that Mary must have been feeling the day the angel gave her the news. To be told you are to carry the One, the Messiah. I can't even fathom it.
And then to give life to this child, in the way that she did, with the humble surrounding she was in... again, I can't even fathom it.
Oh to aspire to the faith that Mary had. A faith that, despite the fear she must have felt, moved her to say yes, "I am the Lord's servant..." (Luke 1:38) and accept the Lord's plan. A faith that endured the long and most likely painful journey to Bethlehem. A faith that pushed past the pain and clung to the only person who was there, her new husband, to bring forth a child that was to be King! A faith that clung to the very breath of Heaven...