The snow fell fast on Christmas Eve, painting, with high winds, each tree and building white. Then swiftly falling temperature froze all in place, leaving twelve yearling lambs, clothed in nature’s camouflage, invisible on the hillside. Meanwhile the shepherd filled the barn with deep fresh bedding for the pregnant ewes. And, having forgotten and left the barn door open, he found upon return that fresh snow covered all.

Laying down more dry hay on the floor he invited the expectant mothers back in for the night. Then he closed the big sliding door (after the fact) and walked back to the house. Marveling with each step, at the beauty of snow underfoot, he thought of the miracle that life could be born that night in one of the stalls, while the ancient dream of Irving Berlin was being fulfilled before his eyes.

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