Mary's Prayer

ary stretched against a bale of straw, baby Jesus nestled close where she could run her fingers across His skin. The words the angel had spoken months before, stirred deep in her heart. Was this really the Child of God? Had He really come to live amongst His people?

The thought was overwhelming and she couldn’t begin to comprehend its greatness. Leaning over she lifted the infant into her arms and caressed the soft fluff on His head. Holding him close, she began to pray.

“Is this really you God? Have you clothed yourself in skin and come to dwell amongst us; to walk upon this tarnished land? I gaze into your newborn eyes and wonder at the mystery and glory of Emmanuel, God with us. The Creator of the Universe, cradled against my chest.

Already you have healed my heart. The shame of my pregnancy, the mocking voices and taunting faces have faded like shadows before the rising sun. Is this a foretaste of what you bring the world? A love so deep, compassion so great, strength that will overcome all fears?

And yet, my joy is tempered with sorrow. Frankincense mingled with myrrh. What suffering lies ahead, I know not, but I sense it will come. I want to take you away and keep you safe. Is that strange? The created wanting to protect the creator? But you are not mine to take. The angel proclaimed you were given to the world, given to save us from our sin.

Your lips flutter gently as you drift off to sleep. Sated. Content. I wonder what words you will speak. Will you dialogue with kings and rulers or will your words bring truth to the masses? Will your voice be gentle and kind or will it ring with the authority of heaven?

And your hands. So delicate and fragile. I caress your tiny fingers as they curl around mine. Rejoicing in that bond, that connection. It’s fleeting for one day these hands will be firm and capable. Hands that will reach out and touch many lives.

Unwrapping the swaddling clothes, I cup your feet in my hand. Feet that will travel. Feet that will carry the good news across parched plains of hopelessness. Feet that will bring healing and wholeness to many lives. I believe they are the feet of God.

Yes. It really is you God.

Jesus.

Emmanuel.

God with us.”

Just then, a babble of voices broke into the night. “We’ve come to see the Savior. A baby lying in a manger. The angel said we would find him in a stable in Bethlehem; that He had come to bring good news to our people.” Mary looked across at Joseph as she lifted the sleeping baby into his crib of straw and wood. “Let them come and worship for this is just the beginning.”