The greatest miracle is not that Mary conceived, it is that she believed. Martin Luther
He yawns from across the table, his upper lip covered in melty marshmallows and a smear of chocolate. He grins and I know blessing number 4 is ready to fall into his bed and wrap himself up in a blanket cocoon. How he sleeps with his blanket tucked under his head, I’ll never know.
It’s 9:00 and they are all gathered around the table, and the man is in the family room. He is chatting with a young couple and we have already begun to pray that the Lord would add them to our body. Grace abounds in their stories and authenticity oozes from their pores and JOY radiates.
The kids have waited all day to hang the ornament from Day 4 of the Jesse Tree and I’ve promised hot chocolate and cookies while I read about Noah. Johann, the elf, looks on from across the room as Jesus is elevated and His story told again tonight.
I tell the story in a whisper and they listen as they lick white frosting and the sprinkles off of each cookie. I pause to yawn myself, and Isaac hangs the picture of the ark and the rainbow. I whisper again about that rainbow and about God’s love and His promise to never flood the whole earth again and for a fleeting moment, the nagging disbelief that hangs over my head, evaporates.
And I believe.
I keep whispering about how God sent the animals to the ark and how they just marched right in. Those little people with their marshmallow moustaches, look on, their eyes pleading for more of the story and I keep telling all that this mama knows. The babies hold their heads in their hands and rest their elbows on the table and I know it’s time to wash those faces and put these kids in the bed.
They quietly climb the stairs and I join the man and all of the storytelling going on in the family room. They tell their story and I see how the scarlet thread of Jesus runs clean through each of their lives.
The candles flicker on the mantle and I am alive with belief.
And my soul waits…for the One who was promised…