Watching and Waiting

Two days before the holy day.

The donkey has come many miles. His feet are sore. The woman on his back is weary, too. Her husband leads the donkey through the streets full of travelers who, like him, have come for the census. He knows his wife is about to deliver the child. The exceedingly special child. He hunts for a place to spend the night.

Searching, searching.

The old man wanders the temple courts, pondering when the time will be fulfilled that was promised him. He sees the widow who never leaves the temple, but worships and prays constantly. The old man stands and waits, searching the crowds who enter the temple.

Seeking, seeking.

The camels plod through the desert, wondering when they will return to their far home. The men riding them wonder too. Was the star a portent of evil, leading them to their destruction, and not the herald of a magnificent King as they had been led to believe? When night fell would they still see it before them, beckoning?

Looking, looking.

The angels hover unseen over the little town that lay unsuspecting of its place in history. The time is not quite right, but soon. Were the shepherds out in the fields with their sheep? Was the manger waiting where the innkeeper would offer a shelter? Were they about to glimpse the astounding appearance of the One they had seen in glory since their creation, yet had given up His place to be a human body beginning with helplessness and ending with suffering?

Heaven hushes. The universe holds its breath.

Watching, watching.

Contributed by Shirley Shibley—Waiting for His second appearance!