The Holy Birth

Joseph holds Mary's hand, her fingers gripping tight and hard as she begins the final work. She pushes. Every eye in the stable is on her, even the animals seem to hold their breath. The Babe comes--bloody, purple, mottled, his little fists clenched, his legs drawn up tight against his body as he squeezes through the narrow birth passage. As all watch, he takes his first breath of life...and cries. His legs kick, his arms flail, the purple mottled skin begins to turn pink with every breath. Quickly Joseph wraps him in a rough blanket to keep him warm. Another contraction, another push--the birth is done. The innkeeper has supplied a clean knife and the cord is cut. As Joseph runs to the inn for water, Mary brings the Babe to her breast; he eagerly suckles. The animals sigh deeply and go back to sleep, comforted that life has begun anew and that they were blessed to be its witness this cold night in Bethlehem. Joseph returns with a jar of warm water and the servant girl, Iscah. He busies himself with cleaning up the wet, bloody straw and replacing it with fresh, as Mary and Iscah bathe the Babe and Mary washes herself. Joseph pulls a clean robe from their travelers' pack and soon Mary and the Babe are clean, warm and dry. Iscah sits with the innkeeper's dog at Mary's feet and watches as the holy family embraces God's mystery. Joseph passes her the jar of wine after he and Mary drink. "Thank you, child, for helping us," he says as she drinks to the wonder of it all.

I'd like to think that the family had a few hours of rest and sleep then. That Joseph lay down with Mary, and they snuggled the Babe between them to keep him warm. That Iscah returned to the inn, but the dog remained, faithful in his watchful duties. And that...as they slept, the great star hanging high over the little village of Bethlehem began to guide the world to this Babe. From lowly sheperds to great kings---all were called. Life for this holy family, indeed for the whole world, would never be the same.