There is something about the manger that stills my heart, that steals my breath and then reminds me to breathe. It happens every Christmas. And it surprises me every time. A baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid right in the hay. A mother's gentle hand on a newborn's furrowed brow. The tension of the night giving way to the relief of having survived it. The moments of sudden calm when Mary must have stared with wonder into the eyes of her Child.