by Zach Kincaid
As she cripples her way in, the room turns. She stands several heads shorter than her brother and hobbles along, dragging one leg that never returns any answers. With every step she tries to keep up with her family, linked together by tired arms and sweaty hands.
Their pace quickens. People flood every space. Her father parts his way through with red sea confidence. She falters. Her hand slips. The people crash in. She looses site of her family, regains it, and looses it again in ever quicker intervals. They disappear. Head bent over, a worn out crutch lying close beside, she cries. Her tangled body goes unnoticed until...
"May I help," says a voice nearby. She turns left and right. "Here I am," says the girl who approaches from behind. "Let me lift you up." She turns as the girl pulls her away from the heavy floor. Something has changed. She takes her crutch, whispers thank you, and begins a tall journey back to find her family. One step, another step - slowly - daring the old unconscious temptation to put weight back into her empty leg. It tingles, straightens, moves, responds, walks, rhythm..."Mom!" She runs.
The crowd seems still, miraculously held open. From her mother's embrace, she sees the girl and is caught by the eyes that gaze back. Great with child, the girl holds her baby not yet born. Her other hand gestures peace. Anxiously, a young man softly takes the girl out of the crowd and into the starry night.
Burst wide with messianic promise - the legacy of God demonstrates such legends. Joseph's dream coat marks him as Rahab's dangling red sash saves her. Elijah's batting at the Jordan causes the water to listen as Elisha teaches it to obey. The bleeding girl must have heard the story of God providing grace in garments as he did in the garden for she reaches past her inhibition and finds love. The cast lots bought nothing that the folded garments in his tomb do not intentionally redeem - the legacy of a god-man come.
The girl wraps her baby in swaddling clothes and places him in a manger. The spent inn has little place for new life. A tall journey lies ahead.