Something moves inside the Jewish girl – moves and turns like a dream of ancestors looking out from their dustbound time to the apex of history. Because she said “yes” to an angel, the girl’s lineage and lineage itself issues forth from a Child. And, within her, He moves and turns on a lowly beast’s worn back like the pouring of a cup in a catacomb to a weary heart, like bread given of a winter’s night for all those grown hungry.
The alarm didn’t go off, and my husband was late for work. The kids were battling over who knows what, but I was able to get them out the door in time for the school bus. Getting into the car headed for work, I realized I left my laptop on the kitchen counter. Turning off the car, jerking the keys out of the ignition, I stomped back. Grabbing my mobile office and charging back to the van, I fretted and hoped it wasn’t an indication on how the rest of my day would go.