By Neely Richer 
Twelve days lay between the now and the onset of labor for Mary. With trodden feet and tired hearts, they slowly make their way to the labor bed where she would birth the King of the world.
Contractions, intermittent at this point, strong at times and weak at others, reminding her of what was coming. Reminding her between each bend of the road and rock her husband stepped over. Reminding her as she took deep breaths between the contractions her body was preparing with. Reminding her as her husband talked of the census and family members also traveling. Reminding her as her mind drifted in and out of pain and physical weakness. That an angel, who once appeared with the brightest light, told her that she would birth the Savior of the World.
That memory played on a loop in her mind and in her heart as they crossed miles off their list on their way to what would become the most sought-after place in the world. The very place wise men were searching for. Where labor cries would come from in the middle of the night. The place an earthly king was terrified of.
As they walked and journeyed to the ground that would hold the Savior, Mary wondered about the life inside of her. What would He look like? Handsome, like her husband, she was sure of it. She prayed He would have the kindness her mother expressed to her as she grew up. She prayed for the labor pains that she didn’t even know would feel like. She believed in a grace and love that the world hadn’t even known yet.
Mary, a first-time mom, experienced the Author of life moving inside her. His tiny feet and tiny hands poking from the womb. She shifts as they cross another mile off their travels and moves his foot from her ribcage.
In twelve days, unbeknownst to her or Joseph, labor would spill out on the ground of Bethlehem, and she would cry with joy that they had done it. She would take that breath, the breath all moms know when labor is done and they rest their heads back.
Their whole bodies relax, and they sigh knowing they did what was set before them. They accomplished the tasks the Lord had asked of them.
She knew He would change the world, she knew one day, He would save even her soul. One day . . . blood would spill on Mount Calvary and once again she would feel that completion in her heart as Jesus himself, her son, her baby boy would mutter, “It is finished.”
From one broken ground to another lies the peace we all so desperately need, the love of Jesus Christ.
Merry Christmas. ❤️🎄
Originally published on the author’s Facebook page
by HVFH Contributor 
by Beth Sickel 
by Jessica McCaslin 
