While the world swirled around her in their daily rhythms and weekly routines, her life was interrupted and never returned back to its course. Her experience with divine interruption would grow slowly, from a seed to a plum, avocado to cantaloupe, watermelon to skies alight with heavenly hosts, and “Alleluias.”

In the most unlikely of places in the most unlikely of times, she ushered in the divine interruption through her own physical power and determination. She interrupted the world the way that the angel had interrupted her world.

Shepherds could no longer watch the sheep. Kingdoms had to do without their kings (whether because they followed the star or because they were too busy plotting evil plans). The skies could no longer rest for peace had broken forth in the stars.

Her life’s interruption became the interrupting story that still wields its power over our own daily rhythms and weekly routines. I hear the story again, and I must ask the question: am I willing to forgo my sheep, my kingdom, and my quiet to allow the angel’s message to disrupt all the conclusions I had carefully crafted?

This Christmas Eve, the skies prepare to burst forth in glory. A pregnant woman sighs with great pain and expectation. The divine interruption is nigh. Come, Holy One, come.