Crisp and cold was that night; the one that changed the world. The flocks were gathered, counted and secured and now they huddled, visages marred by sun and rain. Flames flickered over their weathered faces as they stretched chapped and cracked hands towards the fire.
Few words were spoken between these gnarled and knotted men, their thoughts were their own as they kept quiet vigil over the master’s herd. The lowing of sheep was the lullaby of the night as the shepherds heads began to nod in time to their comforting bleat.
Sudden silence stilled the night and the shepherd’s stirred in alarm as no sound carried from the sheepfold. As one they arose from the rocky ground with staff and crook in hand. What strangeness hung heavy on the hillside outside of Bethlehem this night.
Lightening streaked the velvet sky and a chorus of song echoed through the hills as the shepherds fell to their knees in fright. “Glory to God” reverberated in their souls as they tried to shield their eyes from the angelic host that appeared before them.
Hearts once calloused from secret pains began to beat with hope again. The Christ Child has come; the Promised One. Lowly shepherds without home and hearth herald the news the angels brought that night, “Those that have lived in darkness have seen a great light. “
Come, let us adore Him.