Breathe

Sunday, December 24, 2017

Christmas Eve, 2017

This Christmas Eve
My infant son
Lies wrapped in swaddling cloths
And oxygen tubes.

Vulnerable.
Our hearts have held their breath
Too many times
For love of his little life.

Tonight I marvel
That an eternal God
Would make himself
A breathing baby boy

And, vulnerable,
Sleep in our sin-sick world — 
That, having died,
We might breathe again.

_______________
Originally posted at P.S. I Love You.

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