Into the dark.

Into the night.

Into the ache and pain and wave after wave of labor.

Into the dirt between handfuls of straw clutched in desperate fists.

Into the bite of teeth clenched down and muscles baring down and midwives singing down the fear, the fever in her eyes, the first time for her and us and creation.

Into the moment, pulled headlong into the pushing and not knowing what the child would look like but recognizing his name before his face. Into the wonder, into the awe, into the sweat and tears and desperate crowning glory.

Into the night.

Into the day.

Into the past and present and future.

A thousand angel choirs, a Father-God diving toward earth, only Son clutched in His arms, desperately handing him over into the fragile flesh of humanity between the raucous jeers of the dark and the bated breath of the heavens.

Push and roll and ache and pray.

Donkey breath. Rooster. Tom cat.

Into the world.

Out of the dark.

“The people living in darkness have seen a great light;

on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”

Into a new day.