The Morning After

The Morning After

(A Long-Expected Baby)

On a cold winter morning, I was driving from my son’s house in Arm, Mississippi, to go to work. I was traveling on a country road, and it seemed like no one else in the world was awake yet. There were no cars coming or going on the road. It seemed like I was all alone. There was heavy frost on the ground, and the air was brisk. 

As I rode along, I passed trees and fields covered in what looked like snow, but it was just frost. It was spectacular as the sun began to slowly rise in the East. It was so beautiful I could barely keep my eyes on the road, so I drove slowly. The sun burst across the fields, and through the trees in grandeur and along the sides of the road, even the spider webs that were attached to tall grass blades were glistening. Tree limbs had a glassy look and hung heavy and low. 

Suddenly, a thought occurred to me, this may have been the same kind of morning that Jesus was born in. I thought, God may have chosen a morning just like this to pour His majesty out all over the world. There was a goodness and tenderness emerging with the waking morning; I could feel it. I thought about the baby. My mind began to imagine Bethlehem and the Inn and other things around town. What were the people doing as they arose from their slumber? Who knew the Messiah was right there among them, right now, overnight? More thoughts were rushing through my mind as I drove and let my imagination stroll through the little town of Bethlehem. 

I felt an urgency to write down my thoughts, so I pulled over as soon as I could to find something to write on. There was nothing! I couldn’t find one piece of paper to write on except my work papers, but I couldn’t write on them. I prayed that God would help me keep my thoughts until I could get to a gas station or store of some kind and buy a notebook. The story in my mind was so compelling, and I just had to write it down. Miles down the road, I found a store and quickly went in and bought a tablet, returned to my car, and sat there until I had my story written. The following is that story: I titled it “The Morning After”

The sun rose with a splendor as no one had ever seen before.

The breaking day was extraordinarily spectacular. Frost sparkled on the ground as though millions of tiny stars had fallen from the sky, and a soft white blanket lay across the ground. The sun burst across the fields, through the trees in grandeur, and along the sides of the road. The glistening seemed to be singing, “He’s here! Everybody wake up, He’s here!” A wave of excitement began to flow across the land as the birds proudly made the very first announcement that the babe had arrived during the night.  With great expectation, they danced in the air and soared higher than ever before.  They had been given the grandest job of all: to announce the arrival of the Messiah. Jesus was born, living among them, and not one single bird could contain their excitement.

         The house was crowded with family, uncles, aunts, and cousins sleeping peacefully in the loft. They had a busy day ahead of them. They were to report and put their mark on the census book. Getting up earlier than everyone else, a young maiden started a fire in the open hearth and began to prepare breakfast. As usual, she carefully measured out the ingredients for the flatbread needed to feed her family. She had fruit and olives, cheese and eggs, to serve with it. She felt great pleasure in her responsibility of feeding the family.

Suddenly, she heard the great noise the birds were making outside and set down the bowl she was holding. What is all the excitement about? She ran quickly to the door and opened it. As she stood there in the doorway, a cold breeze brushed the side of her face, causing her to look in the direction of the modest Inn at the end of the street. As she glanced around, she noticed a few other people poking their heads out of their doors.  Another breeze nudged her to walk out of her little home, so she grabbed her shawl, wrapped it around her shoulders, and started down the street. 

The morning had a different feel about it than other mornings. The fresh, crisp air was soft and light. The sun’s light peeking out just above the horizon was brilliant and captivating, unmatched by any other thing in God’s creation. Just looking at it took her breath. She didn’t notice that the air was cold; her mind was filled with feelings of anticipation. 

The birds twirled to and fro, claiming that this was the most exciting day that had ever been or that ever would be. Suddenly she noticed she was not alone. Other town maidens were there beside her, all wondering if it was even possible. “Do you think it’s possible?” One spoke. “I do not know, but I hope so,” she replied. Another said, “It just must be; I can feel it. I can tell by the way the birds are flying; just look at them.” Another maiden stood with her hands tightly grasping one another and said, “Oh, I have been waiting for so long, but I never dreamed that He would come to our little town of Bethlehem.” When she heard the excitement of the others around her, she whispered to herself, “Can it be?”

She began to walk a little swifter, not even knowing exactly where she was going but feeling drawn to the stable. Her eyes were wide open, hoping she wouldn’t miss a single thing about this grand event. As they approached the Inn, it was as if there was nothing or no one else in the world. They entered the small stable with caution, no one speaking a single word. Only hushed gasps could be heard. The animals were watching in awe, and there were shepherds standing back, looking intently. 

Mary looked up when the young girls entered and reached out her warm hand to the maiden, who could feel Mary watching her with a smile. She gave Mary her hand, but the maiden could not take her watery eyes off the Holy Infant. Her knees became so weak that they buckled and fell to rest on the dusty stable floor. Finally, she looked into Mary’s eyes and asked, “Is this who we have been waiting for?” Mary said, ever so softly, “Yes, it is He.” A tear, a single tear, trickled down her cheek and fell on the infant’s swaddling clothes. He lay sleeping in the comfort of his mother’s arms. Mary took his tiny hand and said, “You may touch him.” She hesitated, but she took his hand and brought it to meet her trembling lips. A rush of joy flooded her very soul, and she did not want to let go. She knew it truly was Him, the Messiah. Oh, what wonder she felt in her heart. 

Finally, backing away from the manger, she turned and began to run through the streets, shouting this wonderful news to everyone, and rushed to tell her family what had just happened. This day was the most special day in the world. The day sweet Jesus was born. She met him. She touched Him and kissed his hand. The Messiah, her Lord. Would they believe her?

The End

By Kelly Morea