Christmas Day and an infant sleeps on my chest
And I figure that he’s closer to me now than he’ll ever be.
So I bury my nose into this sweet-smelling baby head
And I breathe in deep what doesn’t seem to last.
Christmas music plays and the lights twinkle beside our heavenly peace.
Little boys are snuggled in their beds upstairs-
But they’re growing little boys.
And Christmas only lasts twelve days.
And days pass.
Days always pass.
They say that’s why we should be detached.
Love, but without self-interest, they say.
Love your loved ones because they belong to God,
not because they belong to you.
Let them be God’s children first.
But I don’t want to do that.
I don’t want to let go of now and the way my loved ones are now.
I’m afraid that if I do, I might lose them.
But then I look down at baby eyes looking up at me,
And suddenly I’m in a stable
And I’m holding that baby
I’m holding all love and joy and hope.
Suddenly, I’m holding the world.
And time stands still.
And I know- this IS God’s baby.
And he’s actually bigger when he’s God’s baby.
He’s deeper, he’s more complete, he’s eternal.
Suddenly, in surrendering what I know of those I love to He who loves them most,
I’m drawn all the more closely to them
Because I’m closer to Him.
And His hands are big enough for all of us-
All the many facets and phases and stages of us-
But they’re warm
And soft as a manger bed.