As I watched the dawn break this morning, an orange
sliver on a gray horizon, my thoughts wandered to that
first Christmas, and how it might play out today…
Manhattan (or any major city): man and woman arrive,
little money, can’t even afford a cheap hotel room.
She’s quite obviously pregnant, and the paternity is sketchy.
No matter, boyfriend doesn’t care, loves her, and vows to
raise the child as his own. As they walk through this city,
the woman collapses in labor, and their infant son
is born in the park. The story warrants a few lines under
Human Interest in the daily paper. A handful of strangers
who read it actually step up and help the couple find work
and a place to stay so they can get on their feet. They beat
the statistics, and stay together to raise their son, who
becomes a well-known lobbyist and human rights activist,
speaking up for the people down on their luck,
and bringing needed attention to the ills and
mismanagement of government and society.
I have heard the Christmas story described as a fairy tale.
Whether you believe or not, there is no denying the
lessons we learn from it, the moral to the story of Christ's life:
that we need to care about each other;
that we shouldn’t be afraid to spend time among the ill,
the destitute, the so-called sinners and low-lives who need
a kind word, their spirits lifted, a hand up;
and mostly...
that we need to treat others like we wish to be treated.
As each one celebrates this holiday in their own way, may your hearts be filled with wonder, and with the true meaning of the of the season.
© Ginny Brannan December 2011
