What a year this has been! I haven’t posted much since August when my mother passed away. I haven’t been hit with much grief, but oh so many responsibilities! I don’t think I’ve stopped for the entire four months, between memorial services and estate duties. And now we are in Texas celebrating not only the birth of our Savior, but also the birth of our first grandson. Jack joined his two sisters on Saturday. We were delighted that we arrived in time for the birth, and have been ever so busy taking care of the girls, ages four and two, while their mom recovers from an unexpected C-section. We are trying to maintain as many traditions as possible, but many are going by the wayside as we simply try to maintain some semblance of normal. That’s hard since we don’t know their routines or even where things are in the house.
I’m sitting here tonight with the cutest little boy lying next to me. I look at him and am in awe that this is how our Savior, the Light of the World, came to earth. We’ve heard it all before. He laid aside his glory and came as an infant. But for those of us not generally around infants, it’s all too easy to forget what that means.
Jack is utterly helpless. Utterly dependent on the adults around him. He eats, sleeps, and poops. He makes the most wonderful array of faces, but in the end, he’s awake or asleep. He controls nothing. He lights nothing. He lacks power, authority, or gravitas. Yet when Jesus was born, many recognized this infant as Messiah, or at least as someone very special. The wise men recognized a king. The shepherds recognized the savior, Christ (Messiah, anointed one) the Lord. Hefty titles for one who undoubtedly weighed under 10 pounds.
I am once again in awe that the Lord and king of the universe would come like our little Jack. That he would entrust himself, his life, to very young, first time parents in a primitive part of the world. That would whimper, cry, and expect to have his needs met. The God-man, making his debut as an infant. That’s Christmas.
May yours be blessed.