Wife of Shepherd

My husband is a shepherd. We go into the fields and there, together, we watch the flocks. There are those who say we are poor, that of the many who come and go, wander and stay in this beloved and ancient land, we are the lowliest, the most humble. Humble-perhaps. Indeed, it is what we desire. But, poor? If only I could give you the eyes to see, the heart to feel the incredible beauty of those ageless Judean hills, the deep peace and contentment we've found in the land of unspoiled solitude. For there a miracle unfolded before us while abiding in these fields. That single night when the worlds and eternities stood still and witnessed the birth of Jesus the Christ.

And I was there. It was I who stood with my heart and soul singing, while the glory of the Lord shone round about. The glory of the Lord-there are not words to describe it. It was like...the very first dawning of all creation, and every dawn thereafter, glowing and melting into one--shimmering, shining, throbbing. Awesome and frightening. We were sore afraid. But then came the voice-clear, piercingly sweet, beautiful beyond description, "unto you is born this day in the city of David, a savior, which is Christ, the lord." And then, suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, saying, "Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace good will toward men."

I saw what I saw. Wolds without end, it cannot, will not change. For the humble, it is easy to believe as we believed what we heard that night. And because we believed, we went and did see the child lying in the manger. Poor? Ours was a divine gift, a sacred treasure to be kept deep within the heart, pondered upon, cherished and then to be told in great reverence in the quiet of the night to my children and they to their children, generation to generation, forever.