A New Christmas Perspective
(At some point, I plan to blog about Emily and Isaac's first two months of life, but first I wanted to share something that has been on my heart this week.)
For me, sparkling lights on houses, festive music on the radio, and trees lit up in windows with presents neatly wrapped underneath represent my favorite parts of Christmas. I love our small town's holiday parade, Rudolph the Red Nose Pumping Unit, the Festival of Trees and the Rotary Club's Waffle Bake. But the pressure to make this "the most wonderful time of the year" oftentimes leaves me stressed and frazzled. I enjoy giving gifts to my family, but I don't love shopping with the hectic masses. I love making (and eating) holiday goodies, but I hate worrying about overindulging. I love seeing my daughter's face light up when seeing the presents Santa brings, but I also want to make sure that her belief in the magical doesn't outweigh a grateful spirit for what she has received.
However, Christmas held an entirely new perspective for me this year. It was our first as a family of 5. My husband and I, along with our 7-year-old daughter welcomed brand new twins, Emily and Isaac, on October 25. The holiday season was much more low key than in years past due to the fact we couldn't get out and about with the twins, and I had spent the last part of October and all of November in a Houston hospital so I missed out on my usual pre-Christmas ramp up. Typically, I would spend that time decorating the house, shopping and wrapping gifts, but this year I was settling into my new life as a mom of 3. I shopped online. I wrapped gifts the night before Santa came. We put up our tree in the middle of December instead of early November. We didn't keep up with an Advent calendar. And the Elf on the Shelf didn't make an appearance at our house.
So while the commercialized version of Christmas was lost on me in 2013, the true meaning of why we celebrate this holiday season was all too relevant. As I stared into the beautiful blue eyes of my brand new son, I couldn't help but wonder how Mary felt some 2,000 years ago as she looked into the face of the King of Kings. She was a virgin teenager with a heavenly directive -- to bear the one and only son of the Most High God. I can't help but wonder what she must have thought and felt. What was it like those 9 months leading up to Christ's birth? What was it like to feel the flutters and kicks of her unborn son, knowing he came from God? And on that night in a stable surrounded by animals and hay, as she brought the world's Savior into existence without the help of epidurals or doctors in latex gloves, could she fully comprehend what had happened?
All mothers believe our children will one day grow up to be the doctor who finds the cure for cancer, a Fortune 500 CEO, starting quarterback in the NFL or the next President of the United States. But God incarnate? Definitely not.
So, when Mary looked down at her precious baby boy, as I do each night, did she tell him that he would grow up to make a difference in the world, as I tell my own children? Did she tell him the story of his birth, as I tell mine of how they came into this world? Did she worry, as I do, about being the best mother she could be? Did she look lovingly into his face while he ate and think, "This is truly the best gift in the world."? I would like to think so. Because Mary was an ordinary mother, just like me. She loved her son Jesus unconditionally, just like I love my own kids, Emily and Isaac.
I may not have conceived my children through divine intervention. I may have given birth in a hospital with modern conveniences instead of a stable on a winter night. I may not have been visited by angels proclaiming the glorious work that God would do through my child's life. But I am a mother just like Mary. And that's what makes the life of Christ all the more real to me this year. His life is not just one of fairy tales. It's a true account of how my God came to earth -- just as my children did -- as a tiny, helpless precious infant, wholeheartedly loved by his mother.
And that is the greatest gift anyone can receive.
For me, sparkling lights on houses, festive music on the radio, and trees lit up in windows with presents neatly wrapped underneath represent my favorite parts of Christmas. I love our small town's holiday parade, Rudolph the Red Nose Pumping Unit, the Festival of Trees and the Rotary Club's Waffle Bake. But the pressure to make this "the most wonderful time of the year" oftentimes leaves me stressed and frazzled. I enjoy giving gifts to my family, but I don't love shopping with the hectic masses. I love making (and eating) holiday goodies, but I hate worrying about overindulging. I love seeing my daughter's face light up when seeing the presents Santa brings, but I also want to make sure that her belief in the magical doesn't outweigh a grateful spirit for what she has received.
However, Christmas held an entirely new perspective for me this year. It was our first as a family of 5. My husband and I, along with our 7-year-old daughter welcomed brand new twins, Emily and Isaac, on October 25. The holiday season was much more low key than in years past due to the fact we couldn't get out and about with the twins, and I had spent the last part of October and all of November in a Houston hospital so I missed out on my usual pre-Christmas ramp up. Typically, I would spend that time decorating the house, shopping and wrapping gifts, but this year I was settling into my new life as a mom of 3. I shopped online. I wrapped gifts the night before Santa came. We put up our tree in the middle of December instead of early November. We didn't keep up with an Advent calendar. And the Elf on the Shelf didn't make an appearance at our house.
So while the commercialized version of Christmas was lost on me in 2013, the true meaning of why we celebrate this holiday season was all too relevant. As I stared into the beautiful blue eyes of my brand new son, I couldn't help but wonder how Mary felt some 2,000 years ago as she looked into the face of the King of Kings. She was a virgin teenager with a heavenly directive -- to bear the one and only son of the Most High God. I can't help but wonder what she must have thought and felt. What was it like those 9 months leading up to Christ's birth? What was it like to feel the flutters and kicks of her unborn son, knowing he came from God? And on that night in a stable surrounded by animals and hay, as she brought the world's Savior into existence without the help of epidurals or doctors in latex gloves, could she fully comprehend what had happened?
All mothers believe our children will one day grow up to be the doctor who finds the cure for cancer, a Fortune 500 CEO, starting quarterback in the NFL or the next President of the United States. But God incarnate? Definitely not.
So, when Mary looked down at her precious baby boy, as I do each night, did she tell him that he would grow up to make a difference in the world, as I tell my own children? Did she tell him the story of his birth, as I tell mine of how they came into this world? Did she worry, as I do, about being the best mother she could be? Did she look lovingly into his face while he ate and think, "This is truly the best gift in the world."? I would like to think so. Because Mary was an ordinary mother, just like me. She loved her son Jesus unconditionally, just like I love my own kids, Emily and Isaac.
I may not have conceived my children through divine intervention. I may have given birth in a hospital with modern conveniences instead of a stable on a winter night. I may not have been visited by angels proclaiming the glorious work that God would do through my child's life. But I am a mother just like Mary. And that's what makes the life of Christ all the more real to me this year. His life is not just one of fairy tales. It's a true account of how my God came to earth -- just as my children did -- as a tiny, helpless precious infant, wholeheartedly loved by his mother.
And that is the greatest gift anyone can receive.
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