The True Meaning of Christmas

This is my 32nd Christmas, and they have all been wonderful. Of course there have been Christmases where myself or my family have been sick. There were several Christmases where I had to work at the hospital. There have been logistical dilemmas and bad weather, etc. Somehow, though, even when things aren't perfect, the joy of Christmas prevails and the true meaning of Christmas overshadows all else.

Of those 32 Christmases, however, the ones where I was either pregnant or holding one of my babies have been my all time favorites. There is a deep emotional bond to the Christmas Story those years. I feel closer to Mary - like I understand Christmas from her perspective more. I can imagine, from my own experience, what that very first Christmas was like for her.

This Christmas, I have spent a lot of time thinking about Mary and trying to reflect on the birth of Christ from his mother's vantage point. I have tried to make a conscious effort while I am rocking Owen to really think about what it was like for Mary.

I can identify with Mary from a physical standpoint. I look around Owen's nursery and see everything that makes mothering him easier - disposable diapers, wipes, a crib, his minky dot lovey, pacifiers, a mobile, a white noise maker, white out shades, and a glider. All of these modern conveniences in our warm home seem like necessities. Mary had none of those things. She had a stable, a manger, hay, animals, etc. What would I do if I had literally nothing with which to take care of my baby?

I can identify with Mary on an emotional level. As I nuzzle my sweet babe and feel the softness of the peach fuzz on his bald little head, I feel like my heart could burst because I love him more than I ever thought that I could. I can't wait to see what his future holds. I can't wait to see what his little personality will be like. I want to know him at every age as he grows. I want for him to be healthy and strong. I want for him to be kind and loving. I want for him to be happy. Most of all, I want for him to know the Lord and have an even stronger faith than I do. I would imagine that Mary wanted all of those things - except for the later, of course. She knew that her child was God in the flesh. He had the closest relationship with the Father than any human ever could. What joy she must have felt for her baby boy...

I can identify with Mary on a spiritual level. I look at my helpless little infant and I know that I would die for him in a second. He needs me. He depends on me. He is defenseless against the big, bad world out there. I am his Mama and I will protect him at all costs. I would imagine that Mary felt the same way. She wanted to protect her baby at all costs, too. The major difference here is that He would eventually die for her. Talk about bittersweet. I'd say that is pretty much the definition of the word.

This year, I am rejoicing in the fact that I have a sweet baby to remind me of the true meaning of Christmas. I am rejoicing in the fact that the King of Kings came in the form of a tiny baby to save me from eternal death. Thank you to the 9 month old version of Clayton, and the 8 week old version of Drew, and the 7 month old version of Owen for making the Christmas story come alive for me. I love each of you so very much...