Even the animals, at a safe distance, seem attentive. The's the picture on the cards. But that's not the reality. Mary is, perhaps, fifteen years old, and having her first baby. She is giving birth in among the filth and stench of a cave that serves as a stable.
Flies buzz around.
There is animal manure on the floor. It is in the midst of this struggle, when Mary is certainly wondering about this promise she believes was given to her, that we hear the angels singing overhead. Theirs is the only confirmation she receives that this is not a mistake. This story, then, is a melody of two lines. One cannot be understood without the other.