What Child Is This...

While we were in the hospital through Christmas last year with Max, I would sometimes take my breaks from the machines, and doctors, and frustrations in the hospital gift shop.

I would often stop and admire the Christmas Story figures.  I have bought the Willow Tree figurines for friends and family, but only have one for myself.  Seeing these large figures as the focal point when I walked into the gift shop was always comforting.

Looking at the serene characters, I would pause and say another prayer for my boy.  With the reminder that the very Jesus I prayed to was himself once just a baby in his mother's arms.

The day after Christmas, I stopped in the gift shop before to see if there were any sales to be had.  After admiring the Christmas Story nativity for years,  I got these on a great discount.  When I brought them up to Max's room, I had a red wagon to haul the boxes and pieces up with me.

I couldn't wait to bring them out of their boxes this year when decorating for Christmas.  Since Max was born, I've had a different view of Mary.  A different kind of admiration.  She had a son, who she knew was special.  Who was going to change the world.  And who she knew was going to be taken back from her one day.

I'm not at all saying I'm anything like Mary, mother of God himself.  I am saying that the Christmas story is something different to me since having Max.  It's a story of a mother and father bringing a baby into this world,  not knowing at all what they were getting into.  Learning that he would touch many lives.  That he wasn't truly theirs.  That his life meant more than other boys his age.

No, Max is not the Messiah, and I am not Mary.  But, I find comfort in finding the similarities, and isn't that what finding your beliefs is about.  How these stories from long ago relate to our lives today?