Here we are again, shedding the skin of an old life. One we'd grown comfortable in. One that brought hardships and pain, but also blessings and joy. Each scar runs deep, a permanent mark.
The flesh that was our identity these past 18 months is gone.
We are naked.
I am terrified.
This new flesh is tender, feels raw under the harsh elements of the world.
Did Jesus bristle at the hay in the manger the way I find myself bristling at having to do this - the watching and waiting - all over again?
Did He pause for a moment, hesitant to leave the beauty and comforts of Heaven for this fallen world, as I am hesitant to leave the comforts of the known?
I beg the Lord for sustaining grace, desperate for Him to quiet the cries within my spirit.
I ponder the story of His birth, each participant beckoning to me in a unique way. There, in the Word, I find solace...
...and strength to keep watching.