I Can Scarcely Breath This Christmas Morning

Hush. 

I hear the whisper. 

Hush. 

He calms my aching soul. 

The empty stocking. 

My nephews children without their dad. 

My sister in law with out her son. 

The news of another loss of a dad so loved in this community. 

I can scarcely breathe this Christmas morning. 

I hear the whisper as I drive to the barn. 

Hush my child. 

The strains of a loved Christmas Carol play,

Sing, choirs of angels, sing in exultation;
O sing, all ye citizens of heaven above!
Glory to God, all glory in the highest;

Sing all ye citizens of Heaven above 

The words strike me. 

We are citizens of heaven. 

EVEN WHILE WE DWELL HERE! 

Our citizenship is there. 

The freshness of these words pour over me. 

The glory is given even in the pain. 

Even in the heartache. 

He is there. 

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be glory given;
Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

The Word of the Father. 

Now in flesh appearing.

John 1

 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 He was in the beginning with God. 3 All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made. 4 In him was life,[a] and the life was the light of men. 5 The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

Oh the truth in these verses. 

The simple promise. 

God became flesh. 

The Incarnate.

He came. 

So that we may have life. 

The citizenship already prepared. 

That passport already stamped. 

Entry never denied. 

You are welcome. 

Preparations are made for your arrival. 

This drive to the barn has been a holy journey. 

The air crisp. 

I bring coffee and treats to my farmer and farm boy. 

Even on the holiest of mornings the cows need attention. 

And this morning there are breakdowns and equipment working. 

My farmers take it in stride. 

The farm boy stands watch (Or sits) over the motor. 

Spinning the gear to make it continue on. 

With out it the milking machines can not work. 

But it's Christmas. 

So they do what they do best. 

Improvise. 

We're heading to church in a few minutes. 

To the manger. 

An act. 

A journey. 

On this holiest of mornings. 

When my soul faltered. 

When my grief rose up. 

We're purposefully heading to the manger. 

Yea, Lord, we greet Thee, born this happy morning;
Jesus, to Thee be glory given;
Word of the Father, now in flesh appearing.

The Piano Guys

O Come, O Come Emmanuel

O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.