*The following is an excerpt from Words for Winter, a book of liturgies released by The Austin Stone.
I’ve seen this image hundreds of times:
the Babe wrapped in cloths,
mother’s head tilted, eyes down,
animals oddly sitting ‘round.
But Father,
as I watch my own little one,
with neck strained and toes tipped,
eyes dancing over carved faces
and scattered bits of hay,
I know that her eager, unjaded eyes
see it truer than mine have in years.
Gracious Father, please grant me
this season tiny eyes like these
that feast on twinkling reds and greens
and wonder at snowflakes and carols and trees.
May my heart ask the questions
her tiny mouth ceaselessly sputters
about Mary’s ride on the donkey
or if the sheep were scared of the angels’ songs.
Lord, give me the same delight she has
as she pushes the green bills
into the slim donation slot
and proudly proclaims “Merry Christmas!”
to the smiling bell ringer
at every store entrance and exit.
And may I be as open-handed with my money
as this dearest girl is with joy.
Reawaken my ears
to hear the songs of Your coming
and the jingles of the season afresh.
May I belt out a “Hallelujah!”
with her same volume and vigor,
and then squeal and giggle alongside her
because the singing was truly
that much fun.
Father in Heaven,
thank You for this big reminder
in such a small body.
This child before me understands
the miracle of a prophet-proclaimed,
virgin-born, stable-lain baby King.
Your coming was truly a miracle.
I beg of You, please!
Move in me this season
to see Christ’s birth anew-
to come to You
with neck strained and toes tipped
to celebrate the Babe,
Your big Gift who came
in such a small body.
Amen.
