Mary’s story Luke 2:7 I cradled my precious baby, the Son of God. Soft, sweet cheeks, perfect little mouth, wispy dark curls. His belly full, he slept like a lamb. Shortly after Joseph brought me to this stable in the base of the watchtower, his aunt Shlomit bustled in. Poking her finger into his chest, she clucked her tongue. Her chin waggled as she upbraided him. “A stable? You brought your wife to a stable to give birth? I couldn’t believe my old eyes when I saw you leading her out here to a. . . This is where animals sleep.” And yet it was cleaner, quieter, and smelled better…