At least we are alone, just You and I.
The shepherds have gone;
how joyful they were,
jumping and shouting as they went!
Those mysterious visitors from East —
they too have gone.
How grand they were, and yet they knew,
even as they prostrated themselves before You.
Your Mother is yonder,
(do not fear, she is always near),
but for the moment she has left You in my care.

And so we are alone, You and I.
What shall I call You?
My Son? And yet my flesh and blood You are not!
My Lord? Yes, indeed You are; and yet,
how tiny You are, so pitifully helpless!
So totally dependent — on me!

And who am I?
What have I to offer You?
A manger for a crib when you should be in a palace?
Swaddling clothes for the finest silks and linens?
You smile! Are You indeed happy with these?
Why do I get the feeling this is exactly how You wanted it?

I am but a poor carpenter,
thoroughly unlearned, unlettered.
So many things I do not, cannot understand.
One thing I do know:
He who is the Source of all Wisdom has chosen to put You in my care.
And care for You I will!
I can see it now:
You will grow up a fine, strong lad!

Everything I have is Yours:
I will be Your protector,
I will be Your provider
I will teach You the only thing I know:
You will be the finest carpenter in all Nazareth!
I will be — Your father? Will You look upon me as Your father?
Why do You grasp my finger so?
These roughened hands are not fit to even touch your little toe!
And yet, O Little One, how snugly You fit into these ugly, calloused hands!

Sleep on, my Son.
My Son? Yes, my Son!
My beautiful Son!

I know not what the morrow may bring,
but tonight I am mightier than any king!
For the One who holds the world in the palm of His hand,
Chooses to slumber in the cradle of my arms!

–by Tita O. Cerdenia, BCBP Alabang

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