Do you know?
Night comes quickly in Bethlehem once the sun begins to set. You usher everyone inside and light a lamp as they sit down to eat the meal you prepared. The bread and wine disappears quickly amidst the chatter crowd of relatives; you smile and refill the cups.
Do you know?
When a tiny, chubby hand tugs at the hem of your dusty skirt, your smile widens, and you gently scoop your tiny son into your arms. The little boy sighs in exhaustion and rests his dark, heavy head in hollow of your neck. You continue with serving dinner, although you take care not to jostle the sleeping child. He only recently learned to stay asleep through the night, and you do not wish to change this anytime soon.
Do you know?
You are putting away the dishes when an urgent knock at the door makes you jump in surprise. The sudden movement jerks the babe awake; you slip into the other room to soothe him, so you do not see your husband turn the pleading man and his terrified wife away. They will hurry on to another home, and another, until finally they settle into a stable for the arrival of the woman's own baby boy.
Do you know?
You notice none of this, though, while you rock your own babe to sleep. As his eyelids flutter closed, your husband comes up behind you and wraps a careful arm around both you and your son. You point out the shape of the baby's eyes, the line of his nose, the curve of his cheeks, all of which perfectly mirror his father's. He will make a good helper for his father in the fields someday, your husband murmurs, and both of you chuckle quietly at the absurdly frightening thought that your baby will not be a little boy much longer. Even now, he toddles after his father as he tends the goats every morning. Your son's curious eyes take in every move with such solemnity that you have to dart over and tickle him until his black eyes dance and he squirms with helpless giggles.
Do you know?
You cannot know, cannot have the smallest inkling of what horror with happen in the coming months. As you tuck your son beneath his thin blanket and kiss him goodnight, you cannot imagine that someday soon, you will wrap him in the same blanket and lay him in a grave instead of a bed. As you brush his downy locks away from his forehead, you cannot realize that you will brush the same locks, sticky with blood from the swords of Herod's soldiers, in a few short weeks. As you begin to sing your lullaby to him, you have no idea that you will sob the lullaby as you rock his corpse.
You have no idea that another mother sings the same song to her newborn babe as she gingerly lays him in a manger to sleep, no inkling that this girl's husband will wake her in the night and help her and the babe flee Herod's punishment just in the nick of time. You do not know that this other mother will pause at the top of the hill overlooking the town and, hearing your screams, the lament of Rachel, will press her sweet, safe little babe to her breast and sob your lullaby with you: Lullay, thou little tiny child, By, by, lully, lullay...
This popped into my head while I worked into the depths of the night on my A.P. English portfolio.
References: Matthew 2:13-18, "The Coventry Carol"