There is a story about this season, actually it took place in the spring, where a son was born to a humble couple traveling on a rough road.  They said the angels sang to the shepherds and royal visitors followed a star to honor the infant.

Today I am One with Mary, who holds the inexpressible treasure of mystery in her arms–her son.  One minute we are struggling with the labor of new life, one being twisting in two.  The next minute the tiniest human light shines through my son’s eyes.

And when he goes away and returns home for a visit, like today, the light still shines in a son’s eye.  Sparkles of stories, laughing out loud, mysterious slitted glazes, touching glances, high five celebrations and cheers.

I prostrate myself in the most grateful bow that I was gifted with a son.