Look there! Through the trees Glory’s overshadowing covers those living under the shadow of death— & the One who conceived constellations & comets— giving them birth with a shout of joy is himself conceived & formed in a womb he made out of dust. See now! He who labored to lay low ocean floors & raise up horizons lay low in the pelvis of a woman laboring long amongst the ewes bleating with their newborn lambs these other mothers of sacrifice. Hear how her sighs signaled the shattering of sorrows as he who was emerged at last— in water, blood & vernix swirling like the milky way. Mary’s tears of relief —a prophecy of longing & of joy. Listen! His first cry signaled it was safe to hope again, as he lay in a feeding trough the cut grass beneath him smelling of both life & death— of a sacramental feast. Like the bread of life rising from grains crushed to dust— like the stars long dead still shouting in the silence “GLORIA! He’s here!” You could hear them for miles! The great hosts of heaven belting with a boom like thunder “GLORIA! He’s here!” How terrifying! these songs of glory & peace must have sounded to these least of these shepherds stood aghast until at last, they too saw the babe wrapped in swaddles as foretold. the holiest in the lowliest— and you could see it in their awestruck faces this story is too strange to be a lie— who could conceive it? Watch them bolt through city streets, their feet pounding out the sound of joy pouring out of their dry lips “GLORIA! —He’s here!” who could conceive? of God wrapped in fragile flesh— “GLORIA! He’s here —at last.”
A note from Gracie
I hadn’t shared this poem here yet, but it’s one of those pieces of art that I think will always come back to me at this time of year—and perhaps each year it will mean even more to me than it did last year. I wrote this poem last December, which was arguably the darkest December of my entire life. In deeper ways than I had experienced before, the Glory of the Incarnation met me. The truth is that the good new of Christmas doesn’t mean very much to you if all in your life is already as it should be. Jesus’ coming is a celebration for those living under the shadow of death. His cry is the herald of hope for those who have none. His kind and gentle rule is what will lead us to our forever home someday. This, I do believe.
Thank you Grace ~ this year and another, long ago, have been the darkest of my life. The journey has been so dark and so deep. Thank you for your courageous words. I am grateful as always. A peaceful and gentle Christmas to you and yours. 🙏🏻🕯🕊🤍💙