Wrapped in swaddling cloths, my squirming, kicking five-month old makes a ridiculous Baby Jesus. Adorable, yes, but she is all girl with those rosy cheeks and delicate eyelashes. And newborn she is definitely not, as evidenced by her ever-moving, chubby appendages and bright, curious eyes. And who am I to think I could pretend to be the Mother Mary?
Yet here we stand before a plywood stable in a warm indoor garden, "Silent Night" playing in the background as we wait for the hundreds of onlookers to travel through a theatrical Bethlehem in search of the Baby Jesus. I feel anything but holy as Ben and I joke with the teenaged Roman guard. Sylvia, perhaps sensing the seriousness of the moment more than her mother does, promptly falls asleep in the manger, naked arms spread in peace.
Suddenly it has begun. The first onlookers arrive and I hear Ben reciting his lines of welcome and see the look that comes over their faces as they view the child. I open my mouth to say my only line, "He is our precious gift from God," and my voice catches in a sob.
Our precious gift from God.
The holy bursts in upon me with a force that brings the tears to my eyes. I--who so long have loved Mary's heart and story, who so often yearn to have her gentle and quiet spirit--I should have been ready for Christ to come. But I was not looking for Him, and now here He is, quietly closing around me and taking my breath away with His love.
The people coming through our little stable do not see my bouncing baby Sylvia. Looking upon my sleeping child, they see Jesus. Because they are looking for Him. They have come this night to escape the bustle and glitter and clamor and noise, to be reminded of What It's All About. And there in the manger sleeps a perfect little baby, and they don't see my baby but another Baby who was also God.
The wonder and ridiculousness of it makes me laugh even as I am crying. That God would use a harried, exhausted couple and their too-big baby and a fake manger scene in a modern church garden...It's almost as ridiculous as God using a real teenage girl and her fiance and a real manger scene on a real night in Bethlehem.
He is our precious gift from God. The holy has come among us.
I must admit that I love the traditions of Christmas. I love the decorations, the gifts, the cookies, the carols, the family gatherings--all of it. And though I piously agree with all who say that the true meaning of Christmas is Christ among us, I secretly think it just wouldn't be the same without all those other things. I know this is because my heart does not long for Him fully enough, does not look for Him intently enough. Though I long for Him to be my All in All, I must shamefully admit that He is not.
What would happen, I wonder, if I put all the Christmas things away, forsook the gift giving, forgot the food, and truly focused on Him? Would it be Christmas?
I want to want only Him. I had a glimpse of Him that night as I held my baby in my arms and imagined holding God. A God who would give Himself to us in such a way is surely worthy of my all.
