The Manger Speaks

Home. I am not there yet.

I know it when the pain peels sharp through my heart and head. I reel again. Not the physical pain of body, but the knife edged pain of the soul.

I was meant for another place. Not here.

For I see with my eyes the beautiful terrible. It can not be held, can not be contained nor healed by human hands.

Yet, He holds it. Somehow. This beautiful terrible, by His power. So I grieve and lead my eyes to look onward. Force them against the fierce shackles of all defiance to see Him again.

So I wait and I yield. Only by His power, my flesh seethes, only by His strength I see Him.

Take courage, again.

And wait, again.

You are not where you were meant to be.

And the swaddling clothed babe lights my way, dear manger...oh sweet manger. Tell me of that night once more. Humble place. Humble birth. You, oh God. A babe.

So now the beautiful terrible takes its rightful place. And I know Him and hear Him again...take courage, child.

Home. You are not there yet.