At this time of the dark of the year, all of life is drawn inward. We, too, are drawn into ourselves, and if we find there the humility of a lowly stable, perhaps, deep within us will occur a great mystery of the birth of a child. Not a physical child born of passion, but a spiritual child, born of virginal innocence and purity. Our deepest nature rejoices at this birth, for it holds the greatest promise of life: spirit reconciled to flesh, unconscious to conscious, symbolic to physical, the divine to the ordinary.
Yet this new spirit will find danger. The old habits have power and fear this child. They may seek to destroy it.
In our simplicity, we gaze in awe; in our wisdom, we offer nurturing gifts. For the wise know that in this lies the hope of the world -- that divine love may be born and flourish in each human heart.
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