Outside the hand-built village walls of busy life
sit half-asleep bodies huddled in the darkness--some shepherds--
one cradles a lamb, still but a baby:
a tiny bundle of wooly warmth with eyes that can hardly see,
and with a nose used to the smell of her mother (her guiding light
back then). She used to hear and simply follow
the bleat, she would follow
the sound of the one who nurtured her, her source of life.
Now, without her, not even a glimmer of light
quivers. All she feels is the rough garb of the shepherds
as she nuzzles, stretching a miniature tongue out for a teat she cannot see.
Such a little lamb; such a small baby;
weak and helpless, like any baby
still learning; learning how to follow
and how to hear so she can see.
Sheep lie sleeping when sparks of power jump into life
startling the gentle hearted shepherds
whose heads tilt up at the unexpected glorious light
flooding the skies, the heavens. Such light!
Heaven is poised to proclaim the birth of a baby.
An angel, tall and sturdy, appears before the shepherds
and speaks excitedly of one in Davidís line to follow;
he shares the incredible news of fullness found in the life
of a newborn--a new sign that they, such simple men, will see.
Wrapped with love in a manger, they will see
the child of light.
All around them angels are speaking life
and praising God, proclaiming peace to all men through a baby!
Myriads of heavenly voices harmonize and follow...
then theyíre gone. Excited talk among the shepherds
leads each one to shout suggestions. The shepherds
agree to go down into the village and see what they can see.
Who is hungry? Who will merely follow?
Who will run in desperate abandon toward the chosen light?
Who will stay behind as others race to worship Christ, the baby,
Godís gift of joy and for all people, life?
Shepherds sprint (still dazed and overwhelmed by light
yet passionately focused--they must see the Christ, the swaddled baby)
Ďtil on gnarly knees they choose to follow heavenís gift of life.
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