Mary's Diary the Life of Jesus through His Mother's Eyes
Wrap you in moonbeams dancing around you
Caressing your cheeks with
It's soft silver glow...
Again and again Mary sang the made up lullaby to the little one cradled in her arms. How she adored the sweet creamy cheeks and curving eyelashes. How she loved the charming twirl in his dark hair. How precious was this dimpled hand that clung so trustingly to her finger. She pressed the sleeping infant a little closer to her heart and laid her cheek against his downy hair and her eyes grew moist.
Mary straightened her back and gracefully rose to her feet as she drew the hand woven shawl a little closer around her darling. She walked through the open door
and paused to gaze at the star spangled sky. Once again she looked down at the tiny suckling so blissfully unaware of what was going on around him, and felt like she was holding carefully constrained power in her arms. She tried to imagine his tiny hand flinging stars across the open sky, and smiled reverently. The faint rippling of spring torrents tumbling down the rocks reached her ears. He made that too--plus the profusion of delicately scented flowers , and the rocks, the mighty trees… and me. Once again she leaned her head against his head and held him closer. My son…and my God…
Joseph came up quietly behind her and put his arm around her slender waist. They said nothing for a while and just gazed together at the tranquil night scene. Some cattle lowed not too far away, but the gentle sound only added to the feeling of peacefulness that surrounded them.
“What does the Almighty have in store for his only begotten Son?” Joseph mused.
Mary shivered and pressed closer to her husband. “Sometimes I wish I knew, and sometimes I am glad I don’t.” Five tiny fingers fluttered in the air at the sound of his mother’s voice and Mary rocked him gently.
“He is…was so powerful, Joseph. He created all this,” she pointed with the tilt of her chin.
Joseph nodded. The silence deepened once again, and they heard only the sleepy cooing of a dove as she adjusted her wings over he fledglings.
“He made the birds, he made the trees, he caused the sun to go down and come up…” Mary sighed a tiny sigh. “So powerful, and yet so helpless, how can I ever do right by him?”
Joseph laid his hand on her shoulder. “How can I? Let’s entreat the Holy One for guidance.” Right there in that quiet, sleepy village, near a crooked street, the young couple prayed and the Lord God Jehovah comforted them.