My hands are empty - I bring no worthy gift for the child. I'm not one who has been called to participated in witnessing the fact of his flesh.
I stand at a distance, peering over the shoulders of the faithful - knowing I don't belong and yet compelled to remain. Oddly invited - hoping.
I have no gift. I have nothing to offer the child. Yet I am called to come close.
And I do. My cupped hands overflow with life that drips like myrrh and scents the air.
Merry Christmas to you and yours.