When all was said and done, what did we see?
A mother, tired and frightened and bloody and torn. A baby in a stable reeking of piss and shit and transients living among animals. Living like animals. A family far from home. The stench of their street-feet rising stronger than anything else in that stable, sticking to our skin. This is what we saw.
And it is this, this, that made the angels sing. Made them swell so brilliant that, just for a moment, the veil was lifted and we saw them. Exultant. And they spoke to us. They told us to come and see this blood and piss and shit and fear and exhaustion. They told us that here, in the midst of this, we would find our saviour. And maybe, just maybe, we did.
Because we found someone who was with us. With us in our blood, our piss and shit and stink. With us in our fear and exhaustion. With us in our poverty and helplessness. With us in places where humans should never be, but where we our forced to go. With us. And if this baby is who the angels say, and if he grows and continues to remain with us, then maybe, just maybe, we will be saved.