Of Christmas

It's quiet in my house. You've no idea what that means unless you've been to my house with all the kids going all different directions. When they aren't here, I feel odd. The quiet hits me like a ton of bricks. If the kids have been trying, then the sudden stop is a relief. If all is well, then the quiet feels like a loss. But either way, after a while, the quietude is disconcerting. I enjoy the sounds of children. I love being a mom. I enjoy the bustle and three-ring circus-ness of it all.

In the quiet these last few days, I have been pondering the meaning of Christmas. I have been thinking about what it must have been like for Mary. She carried our Savior around inside of her body, just like I did with mine. When he was born, she must have anxiously examined him to be sure he was alright. Did she have trouble sleeping that first night, because she couldn't take her eyes off of him, in the same way that I couldn't sleep for looking at my babies when they were first born? And imagine what it must have been like the first time her little crawler scraped his knee...did she feel as guilty as I have felt when I've seen my little ones get hurt the first time? Did she ever have a grumpy moment at her son as he did all the mischievious things little boys do, or was she the perfect mom I always wanted to be but failed miserably at? If she did get mad, did she suddenly realize that she was mad at the Son of God?

It says in the scriptures that Mary kept all these things in her heart. She must have marveled at the role she was to play, maybe even been intimidated by it from time to time. Imagine how she must have felt when they realized he was missing! And as she watched him grow and develop, it must have been breathtaking and heart wrenching from a mother's perspective to witness all those moments. Is that something a person could get used to, being the mother of Jesus Christ?

Some people have said that Jesus wasn't like ordinary children. I don't know about that. I think about God and his love for us, and I believe that Jesus coming to earth as a child was as much a gift for Mary as it was an important part of Christ's earthly mission. Holding him in her arms, kissing away his tears, tending to his earthly needs, observing and teaching him as he grew...these are the gifts of a loving Father who knew a mother's heart. She must have been a very special, elect lady.

I treasure moments with my children, too...even though they are not quite angels most days. I store up the memories, the voices, the hugs and kisses and smiles, as insulation against the days when I know trials will come for them and for me. These treasures help me keep my perspective and love them even when they are not being their best. I guess that's what God does for me, too...stores up all the good things we do, knows us as our most perfect, innocent selves, and uses those things, that knowledge, to reach us when we are on wayward paths.

I am so grateful for the Savior. I am grateful for this season when I can celebrate the Father's selfless gift of his Son, the life and sacrifice of our Savior, and the blessing of being a parent. I am thankful for Christmas!