I wrote this story last Christmas—a kind of pondering of what happened behind the scenes 2,000 years ago, the preparation of events mightier than we will ever completely understand. I pray it blesses you this Christmas season. Parts two and three will follow the next two Tuesdays.
Praying and believing,
He looked at his father, the embodiment of love. "You know I won’t. There’s too much at stake.”
Mind focused on the unseen, his father stared past him. “It’s a wondrous plan.”
As his son, he ached to know the complete picture, but he trusted his father emphatically. Time had proven his wisdom and faithfulness. “Is it time to go yet?”
His father met his gaze. “Soon. Everything’s almost in place. Donkey’s aren’t the most efficient form of transportation.”
He smiled at his father’s humor. “”Maybe the next model will move faster.”
His father chuckled, then turned somber. “Next time it will be a pony that carries you.”
“I’m glad to do this.” He glanced away. “I only wish…”
“Yes?” A knowing look graced his father’s glowing face.
“I dread the separation.”
His father approached him, his eyes full of love…and pain. “If there were any other way…”
He nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m going. It is a wondrous plan.”
Passion filled his father’s voice. “Wait until you see the ending.”
“I’m ready to go now.”
His father settled a hand on his cheek. “I’m always with you, my son.”
He embraced his father one last time. He’d eventually return, but in the meantime he cherished the moment. He stepped back and waited.
His father seemed to brim with pride as he lifted his hand. “This is my son, with whom I am pleased.”
Chest swelling with his own pride, he smiled again at his father. “This my father, with whom I have the honor to serve.”
In a blink, darkness surrounded him. He no longer could see his father, but he heard the wail of a baby.
And realized it was his own.