The first morning of the last week of expectation dawned. There was no house in Nazareth. There was no cradle. There was no warmth. Surely it was not because St. Joseph had failed to provide. No. According to God’s providence there was a census that forced everyone from their homes and necessitated a journey for Mary and Joseph across Israel to the land of Judea, to a little town called Bethlehem.
There was no house in Nazareth, but she wore a mantle and that would have to do for sheltering His tiny body. There was no cradle, but Mary’s arms trembled with the anticipation of holding Him. There was no warmth outside, but the Son of God warmed them all from her womb. Although Mary felt the physical cold as they traveled, she was heated from within by the fire of the Sacred Heart that had been beating in the tiny body inside her for the past months. Emmanuel was coming to ransom the captive Israel.
