I've been pondering the imponderable mystery a little bit here and there: that the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us.
Christmas with a two-year-old and a large, pregnant middle is very fleshy. Most of the time is devoted to calming the born child and feeding the unborn child, delighting in both. It's a high-stimulation situation. I am very much aware of (a) my own body and (b) my subsequent inability to concentrate on anything for more than three minutes.
So, it is with great thanks and an incomparable sense of lowliness that I turn every so often, for about ten seconds, to the infant logos, the Word in flesh. I am grateful that the Truth is not the answer to a logic problem; nor is it the concluding sentence of a long philosophical discourse. The Truth is a person. His concrete, fleshy presence is my heart's desire. And even a pregnant, ex-academic, exhausted, hungry, moody mother of two can rest in a presence. My brain can't wrap around any deep reflections this Christmas, but my whole being can be in the presence of the Word made flesh. Alleluia. His mercy is beyond all telling!
"We come together as the Church to learn how to recognize the fact of this Presence, and to witness to it in any circumstance of life, especially when there are no answers. Jesus Christ is the way to the Answer. In him, way and answer coincide." ~Msgr. Lorenzo Albacete