Merry Christmas 2006

From my house to yours, Merry CHRISTmas! I hope that each and every one of you get all of what you need, some of what you want, and none of what you don't want (offer not valid for Aunt Edna's "famous" fruitcake). DH, BB, and I received many wonderful gifts, but the best gift was the gift DH and I received when BB was born. Christmas becomes a whole new game once you have a child of your own. The focus moves from "what do I want?" to "what can I do to make this season special?" As you celebrate this holiday week with friends and family, don't forget the real reason for the season.
Sitting in church yesterday, I related to Mary in a whole new light as Dr. Bozeman delivered his message. Just as I hold my little baby boy, Mary held hers. The little chubby hands and feet that I love to kiss on my baby boy, Mary did also. She then saw those same hands and feet cruelly nailed to a cross. The sweet little head with wisps of hair that smelled so sweetly as Mary rocked her baby as I do mine, was later bruised, cut, and scraped as hair was pulled out and a crown of thorns was placed upon. BB's chubby baby tummy that he pokes out with no reservations, and that I love to blow raspberries on to make him laugh, Mary probably did as well. She then watched as a Roman spear pierced the side that she used to kiss. My baby boy is so heavy when he falls asleep, and his dark lashes against his cheek are so precious a sight to me. Mary must have thought the same thing, only to later see those same lashes against their cheek in the sleep of death. BB has the sweetest voice that he plays with, just like every baby does. Mary must have remembered this as she heard her son cry out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" The thought of one hurtful thing happening to my baby is almost more than my heart can take. Just the thought. How much more did it pain Mary to see that happen to the man that was her firstborn baby boy. She felt him move before he was born, as he stretched and turned around. Did she think of those special moments as she saw him writhe upon the cross? I'm not trying to glorify Mary in saying any of this. But thinking about Mary's point of view as a mother has made me appreciate Jesus' sacrifice all the more. To think of how horrible it would be for one bad thing to happen to my son, and then to think of countless bad things happening to God's Son, someone who never did anything wrong. This message might seem more appropriate for when we celebrate the resurrection, but this was the point of Christmas. Not gifts, not decorations, not carols. The point of Christmas is death. A blood sacrifice.