Forgive me for being far too festive lately. I cannot get enough of this time of year, really. I love to be overwhelmed with tradition and festivities and gift making and carols.
But the other evening I had a “true” Christmas moment. I was helping a good friend put her two-year old son to bed and listening in while they read bed-time stories. He wanted to hear a Bible story, so we read about the birth of Jesus. This is a story that I really have heard hundreds of times, but that evening I was so touched by the quiet moment of the three of us sitting on the floor listening to the same story…the story of God giving us His precious son in the form of a baby. The baby born to Mary and Joseph, wrapped in pieces of cloth, lying so sweetly in a manger took on a new sense of reality to me. It could have been watching his little fingers pointing to the pictures and hearing him saying “Mary” and “baby Jesus” and “Bethlehem” that reminded me of the story from the eyes of a child. I truly grasped that Jesus, powerful, infinite Jesus was once a small boy too, listening to stories and sitting on his mother’s lap, snuggling. It was such a sweet moment to witness. It was a beautiful picture of why we give gifts and sing Christmas songs and build traditions. With all the festivities of Christmas that I get caught up in, it was a simple reminder of the true gift we received that cold night in the stable.