On the sofa a mother sat suckling her child, shirt untidy, undone, drawn carefully back, and a blanket wrapped warm on her shoulder. The baby’s suckling murmured and sighed and the music of Christmas replied with whispering smile.
On the floor a little girl sat nursing her doll, rumpled dress pulled wide, towel hanging from her shoulder. The baby’s suckling sound she made were her own imitation of her brother’s hum.
In the manger scene a mother gazed down at her son. Shepherds and kings gazed too, and father, and sheep. The son gazed up.
And the Son gazes down.