I remember a moment after the birth of my first child when everyone had left and I was alone with my son for the first time. I looked at him lying on the bed and realized I was responsible for this new life. How could I teach him everything he needed? I was terrified.
I held him close and the two of us cried. Those were tears of fear and tears of joy, but most of all they were tears of love. Looking into his little face that day I made promises to my Father that I have tried very hard to keep.
Was it different for Mary on that night in Bethlehem? Like any first-time mother she must have felt all the fear, all the joy, and all of the love that comes with a child. This painting reminds me that we are never alone when we look heavenward.