He came, not as a flash of light or as an unapproachable conqueror,
but as one whose first cries were heard by a peasant girl and a sleepy carpenter.
The hands that first held him were unmanicured, calloused, and dirty.
No silk. No ivory. No hype. No party. No hoopla.
Were it not for the shepherds, there would have been no reception.
And were it not for a group of stargazers, there would have been no gifts.