His Birth is a time for serious reflection.
I find that difficult
with fingerprints all over the glass.
The magnanimity of the Gift we have been given
should quiet our minds and still our souls,
yet in the quiet, I wonder what they're up to.
Candlelight casts an ancient gleam,
illuminating the gratefulness I feel
as my daughter stands next to me on the pew
showing that she remembered to wear bloomers.
This time.
Where there are no oxen, the manger is empty.
Without oxen, a stable stays clean.
But my manger is full, my stable overflowing.
And I think He, more than any other,
understands what a manger is like.
~J.K. Slaughter
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