Mary the maidservant of the Lord found herself in an unimaginable situation. A child grew within her, Son of the Highest, without human father and apart from the curse of sin.
Fully human. Fully God. Completely Holy.
“…That Holy One who is born will be called the Son of God.” Luke 1:35; NKJV.
It was Christmas Day, I was six when snow fell thick. Pure white like a feather tick blanketed a tin shed, an old piece of farm equipment, and an aluminum feeding trough. Junk really, but all of it sparkled like diamonds. Dad and I sat quietly together layer-puffed like marshmallow Michelin men. He pulled on his big boots and I my small ones. I didn’t want to muck up the snow’s perfection. I lingered at the glass door watching as long as I could. Its absolute smooth perfection bore the heavy prints of my dad as he disappeared into the swirling flakes.
I followed behind, trying to step into his footprints so as not to disturb the bright glossiness. Although I stretched my legs as far as I could, my steps didn’t quite match. And the undisturbed snow fall became a kicked up path of dirty snow clods.
“For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name,” Mary praised. (Luke 1:49; NKJV.)
I wonder how it was to raise a perfect child? How does a Mother walk in Holy footprints?
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