Thinking about Mary
Tomorrow is Christmas and for several days now I have been thinking about this Christmas season and what it's like with a new baby boy in our lives. My mind has come back to Mary over and over again over the last several weeks. I look at my son and in some ways I feel like I know what she was thinking as she stared at her brand new baby boy, but then obviously there are so many things about her thoughts and experiences that I will never fully understand and cannot fathom experiencing myself.
The joy that it brings me to look at my son is incredible. When I hold him and he stares up at me with his beautiful blue eyes and flashes me a little grin because he's really starting to know me it is a feeling I could have never expected. I imagine Mary felt much the same way as she held her little boy and watched his face light up as he smiled up at her. I can not imagine, however, how it felt knowing that the purpose of his coming was eventually to die to save the world. To know her time was limited with him must have been an unbearable sorrow. One I'm sure she just tried to put out of her mind as much as possible in order to avoid the tears that would likely accompany that truth. I imagine her comforting him when he cried and slowly learning what each cry meant. Is he hungry? When was the last time he ate? Didn't I just feed him?? Is he wet? Another diaper change, oh my. Maybe his belly is upset? I'll try holding him on my shoulder because he likes to look around. I imagine her feeling much the same way I have the last three months. So many questions, so much joy, so many new things to figure out, and so much beauty in it all.
I also think about her delivering sweet little Jesus. My delivery was smooth with no major complications and eventually no pain. I labored for a handful of hours and came to what I felt was my breaking point and had the option to get relief. Mary, however, delivered in barn, surrounded by farm animals and hay (and all the smells that go with that), with just her husband to get that baby here safely. Now, I'm sure there was some assurance of a safe arrival of baby boy because he was placed in her womb by the Holy Spirit himself, but still I'm sure she was in pain and afraid. The song "Silent Night" makes me giggle after experiencing childbirth for myself. There's nothing silent about it. There are tears, crying, screaming, talking, coaching, questions, laughter, but I think it's pretty safe to say no silence. In her case there was likely even "moo-ing", "baa-ing", etc. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. I imagine her, though, making it through the labor, the pain, and the delivery and seeing Jesus' sweet face for the first time. Calling him Immanuel and know what that means. Touching his face, his hands, his tiny little feet. Watching him sleep, or nurse, or open his eyes. Finally seeing the fruition of 9 months of growing him in her belly. Watching him move and know that he was just doing that inside her only minutes earlier and having that feeling of how very surreal that is. Getting into a routine with him. Praying he would sleep so she could rest. All these things are crazy to me to think about. I have never in my life considered them until now as I look at my son. It brings tears to my eyes to consider how she must have felt knowing that her sweet baby boy would one day grow into a man who would suffer and die in the place of sinners when he himself was literally perfect. I can't imagine if I had been in her place. I'm unbelievably grateful for her, for God using her to bring Jesus to this world and that her son will one day, I pray, be my son's savior and lord.
I sit here typing and watching Oliver watch his hands, kick his feet, and suffer through yet another round of the hiccups and can't help but smile imagining a tiny Jesus doing the same thing. I hope the Lord always keeps these thoughts on my mind as we raise our son. It's just neat to think about the stages of Jesus' development as we watch our own son grow and develop.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of your son Jesus and thank you, Lord, for the gift of Oliver to show us more about him. What fun it is.
The joy that it brings me to look at my son is incredible. When I hold him and he stares up at me with his beautiful blue eyes and flashes me a little grin because he's really starting to know me it is a feeling I could have never expected. I imagine Mary felt much the same way as she held her little boy and watched his face light up as he smiled up at her. I can not imagine, however, how it felt knowing that the purpose of his coming was eventually to die to save the world. To know her time was limited with him must have been an unbearable sorrow. One I'm sure she just tried to put out of her mind as much as possible in order to avoid the tears that would likely accompany that truth. I imagine her comforting him when he cried and slowly learning what each cry meant. Is he hungry? When was the last time he ate? Didn't I just feed him?? Is he wet? Another diaper change, oh my. Maybe his belly is upset? I'll try holding him on my shoulder because he likes to look around. I imagine her feeling much the same way I have the last three months. So many questions, so much joy, so many new things to figure out, and so much beauty in it all.
I also think about her delivering sweet little Jesus. My delivery was smooth with no major complications and eventually no pain. I labored for a handful of hours and came to what I felt was my breaking point and had the option to get relief. Mary, however, delivered in barn, surrounded by farm animals and hay (and all the smells that go with that), with just her husband to get that baby here safely. Now, I'm sure there was some assurance of a safe arrival of baby boy because he was placed in her womb by the Holy Spirit himself, but still I'm sure she was in pain and afraid. The song "Silent Night" makes me giggle after experiencing childbirth for myself. There's nothing silent about it. There are tears, crying, screaming, talking, coaching, questions, laughter, but I think it's pretty safe to say no silence. In her case there was likely even "moo-ing", "baa-ing", etc. It makes me laugh just thinking about it. I imagine her, though, making it through the labor, the pain, and the delivery and seeing Jesus' sweet face for the first time. Calling him Immanuel and know what that means. Touching his face, his hands, his tiny little feet. Watching him sleep, or nurse, or open his eyes. Finally seeing the fruition of 9 months of growing him in her belly. Watching him move and know that he was just doing that inside her only minutes earlier and having that feeling of how very surreal that is. Getting into a routine with him. Praying he would sleep so she could rest. All these things are crazy to me to think about. I have never in my life considered them until now as I look at my son. It brings tears to my eyes to consider how she must have felt knowing that her sweet baby boy would one day grow into a man who would suffer and die in the place of sinners when he himself was literally perfect. I can't imagine if I had been in her place. I'm unbelievably grateful for her, for God using her to bring Jesus to this world and that her son will one day, I pray, be my son's savior and lord.
I sit here typing and watching Oliver watch his hands, kick his feet, and suffer through yet another round of the hiccups and can't help but smile imagining a tiny Jesus doing the same thing. I hope the Lord always keeps these thoughts on my mind as we raise our son. It's just neat to think about the stages of Jesus' development as we watch our own son grow and develop.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of your son Jesus and thank you, Lord, for the gift of Oliver to show us more about him. What fun it is.
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