Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.
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My mother often told about the day I was born. As a child, I heard the story as being filled with drama and joy. As a teenager, I heard the story as being filled with pain and suffering. I am not sure to this day whether the difference was the way my mother told the story, how I heard it or both. The facts that didn't change was that I arrived and my parents took me home with them. And so my story began and how I look back on that story and how I came to feel about those parents still does not change the facts that I arrived and who took me home. Jesus' birth, though surrounded with stories both sublime and mysterious, is still a story that begins the same as ours. He arrived and Mary and Joseph took him home with them. In the course of our lives we will hear that story a variety of ways, with a variety of differing opinions and critiques, but perhaps it would serve us well to ponder just this simple part of the story: God arrived and we took him home with us. He would grow up and all hell would break loose, but that's another story.
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I love to tell the story of Jesus and his love. Amen.