Christ; the Journey to every man

Welcome to this website. If this is your first visit, I write about travel with young kids and the journey we collect over the years as a family. Since it is a brand new year, it is most fitting to bring about a story of hope. I can’t pass on the greatest story told to men without telling the greatest story in the history. The incredible travel journey that happened more than 2000 years ago. The story of the Holy family, passed along by merchants and forseen by the astrologers and wise men. The travel of the infant Jesus to every man’s heart.

Books are created with the intention of narating every bit of detail and capturing one’s very imagination to paint a story. Long ago these intentions were the simplest and purest of form- dedicated to bring hope. To capture our hearts and portray love that has been the most sought out by every believers and un-believers, never been more relevant to this present day.

If love was poetry, then Christ is the ultimate celestial celebration ringing His humble glory to the world of the forgotten, the unspoken and the hopeless. To you and me. The days traveled from Nazareth to Bethlehem engages our limited imaginations of the glimmer that’s surfaced leading to every tiny hope left for men; for Mary and Joseph, to the very infant born with men, and amongst men. Our story of salvation crafted in the most earthly form and creation.

Just a few days back, the very though of an Angel appearing- is now starting to soak in as they pack for the journey leaving everything behind to follow the greatest journey of their lives. To uncertainty and disbelief.

The travel must have been a defying odd of ambigous flights of thoughs; of uncertainty, untainted feeling of misdirection, uparalleled anxious engagement; but faith sparked the wheel to roll, the donkey to follow Joseph’s reverbirating stern voice and of course, Mary’s vocal considerations and gentle touch.

The holy family plowed through the open Judean desert, the fume of dirt rising, following every sut behind them. Every clinking of tunic and herbal oil heard on every bumpy path. The baby descending by the minute to the pelvis. The critters will burrow deep down in the earth from the commotions., or will they? Into the night the temperature drops, the baby stretching and turning, making Mary hold her breathe and look up into the pitch dark night for a reasurring guidance to continue on. A weak uterine contraction forcing the steady stride to cease for a bit somewhere in the flat, stronger it gets into the many valleys of the dessert and the stark night. Mary will have endured another hurdle. But somehow the glory of this baby is holding the family together. Contemplating at every breathe and laboured pace. The vast open sand dunes, the people of this land- will soon find hope again. This bit of sacrifice silently imploding will lead to it’s eminence. The joy of man kind. A perspective from a humble family to be marveled for many generations.

So they continued on the wee hours and into a refreshing dawn and day break to fulfill this hope that many have longed for centuries. The astrologers and the merchant, the peasant and the lowly. Silently their prayers are about to be realized. The greatest design ever fulfilled know to men.

Up ahead in the distance the City of Bethlehem twinkle its last glow of the morning. The sun’s ray painting orange hue on rooftops and small hills. It must have been a sight to see during this time of the day. Elaborate shade of colors replenishing the dark. Mary is hungry and her feet are tired. Joseph is weary but giving his every muscle. He must have looked back to her and given her a small corner smile of reasurance. ‘We’re almost there Mary’.

But it will take the whole day and back into the very pit of the dark and cold night to fulfill the triumphant victory to displace the night. The grueling encounter of men shutting down the family will play countless times before the very last hope to penetrate its potent remark to Mary and Joseph, to you and me. In the very bottom pit, meeting the glory of Christ for the first time in the most remarkable way.

The rest of the story is carved in your being. The manger and the Magi. The glowing nebula exploding like trumpets of visual display light up the holy night. And then the baby. Born to men. Unlike any. Blameless. Important. The prince of every peace known to men. Distant from the marvelous towers but closer to the very meak. The irony repeats itself as gift are brought by distant travelers and the very hope restored in men.

Why did He choose to be born in the deadest of the night, or the cold winter?

I wonder what the family has traveled with and the food they brought. Or how many angels did they encounter along the way?

As the wind blow colder tonight, go and turn your furnace and enjoy the sweet melted cocoa with the family; and think of the holy family traveling the dessert for you. Turn down your excess lights and find the heavens with a twinkle of the very morning star. Follow what your heart expresses as it regains composure during this holy season of yuletide carol. Open your door to the hope that is about to dwell in your home. Be vigilant in the blue hours of dawn and find a quite place to encounter peace to sustain this prelude and the new year.

My family and I have observed this season of hope contemplating on our travels together and the many blessings throughout the years. We continue to travel this earth in our own ideas and hope that we find love in friendship, culture in food and gestures of hospitality in every smile. But let us continue remember the Holy family.

Love is here. Hope, restored.

Merry Christmas and a happy Newy year! I can’t wait to write more stories of hope this year.

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