A Touch of a Holy Night

She shines like a star behind moving clouds as the street light flickers off and on, illuminating her figure every other second.

Her backdrop is a red brick wall turned gray by the night and she appears as though a ghost.

Somewhere in the distance a dog barks, yet her feet shuffle in their own singsong dance.

While her knotted lace shawl adds a touch of exquisiteness to her being.

And something glitters brightly on her left hand.

It’s an odd sight for this time of night.

Is she lost? And where is she going?

Not wanting to cause her alarm, I drive past.

Glancing in my rear view mirror, I see her turn.

And I stop.

I park my car and begin a tiptoe journey to spy on her.

For a moment she stops and looks around alarmed.

I pause and hide behind nothing by the night.

She resumes her shuffling

I follow on tiptoes.

When she enters the graveyard, I stop.

And I understand.

Tempted to follow, I decide to let her be.

This is their moment.

And I am a unwanted spectator.

I tiptoe back to  my car.

And my heart hurts for the grief she carries.

And my heart marvels at the love she still gives.

My radio beams…silent night, holy night…

And though I have not witnessed the birth of a baby in a manger,

I have seen glories stream from heaven above.