They say you never forget the birth of your first-born, don't they? And how much more so when he is as special as mine. Even now, fifty years later, I still take those moments out and sift through them like jewels.
The diamond clarity of that obedient yes, when the angel came.
The smouldering ruby of the long painful journey to Bethlehem.
The shepherds' words, like pearls of great price.
The shining gold of the wise men's precious gifts.
So much else has faded, but these will never grow dim. I polish them bright in my memory every day.
And then I remember the agony of watching him crucified, that sword piercing my heart. And the world breaking into a million glittering fragments when the women came running from the tomb, saying they had seen him - alive! I have seen thousands professing his name, I have seen the persecutions his friends have undergone. I have heard - wonderingly - reports of people naming themselves Christians in faraway countries I can hardly imagine.
And as I hold my jewels up, I see the light shining through, and illuminating the world.
But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.