These Baby Hands

These Baby Hands

As a mother of a newborn baby
Cradled in the manger for a bed
I wonder what thoughts
Were going through Mary’s head.

Did she count the fingers and the toes
On the perfect baby at her breast
Knowing just the extent
To which she had been blessed?

As she held those tiny hands
And kissed each precious finger
Did she celebrate only that moment
Or on the future did her thoughts linger?

Did she foresee the nails
That would pierce his grown up hand
Or did God not show her how He would save us
Would that be more than a mother could stand?

As the angels celebrated the Holy birth
Did they know the day would come
When they would see the cruel tree
That would hold God’s only son?

I celebrate the baby Jesus
I celebrate the one He grew to be
I celebrate the King of Kings
Who came to set us free.

I celebrate His first coming
As a baby so tiny and mild
Born as an infant to Mary
Who raised this special child.

I watch for His coming again
And it is my daily prayer
That when He comes to us again
I will be worthy to meet Him in the air.

Thena

That made ma all sniffley. Beautiful, just beautiful.