All because of the manger

The inn was full that holy night, so that I might hold on to the hope of seeing those who fill the empty spaces of my heart again.

Without the baby in the manger, where would I find the promise of meeting my precious ones in glory?

There was no room for Him that night, so that even in the midst of grief, I could lift my eyes to make room for hope.

The heavens resounded with songs of “Glory to the newborn King,” so that one day, I too might join the song—my voice mingling with my babies’—as we kneel together at His feet.

Mary delivered her child in a humble stable, so that when my soul groans under the weight of sorrow, I would know I am never abandoned.

She surrendered her son, her mother’s arms aching as she watched Him suspended between heaven and earth, so that my arms might one day hold what was lost in a reunion no grief can touch.

And now, those at His feet lift voices sweeter than angelic choirs, singing, “Worthy is the Lamb, the Holy Lamb.”

All because that manger cradled Him that night, I will never know the ache of eternal emptiness. Instead, I will know fullness and joy.

What tidings of comfort and joy 🤍