One of my favorite Bible characters is Mary. I know this is a bit of a cliche, but I really admire the innocence, and yet worldliness that she had to posses at the same time. Mary had such innocence when the angel told her the good news, with her incredulous response. Of course she was a sinner like the rest of us; but she clearly was blessed with a rare measure of grace to have found such favor with God. However, I'll bet Mary had hopes and dreams like any other teenage girl; she had met her man, and was betrothed, probably eagerly anticipating her wedding. She valued purity, and held her virtue in high regard.
After Mary conceived Jesus by the Holy Spirit, she had surely grew up overnight. She had the human form of God growing inside her. She was probably scorned and judged for her pregnancy. She was almost divorced by her intended. She made an awful journey at one of the most vulnerable (and uncomfortable) times of a woman's life. And then, after enduring the raw intensity of a natural birth in less-than-ideal conditions, she gazed into the tiny newborn face the Son of God, and loved him, not only as her Savior, but as her child. And as she looked into his face, she may have remembered the prophesies. She knew as soon as her infant child was in her arms that he would live a difficult life, then be tortured and die; but the Bible does not say that she focused on those things. At her child's birthday, she treasured up these special moments, and pondered them in her heart.
Last year, I was about six months pregnant at Christmas time. I was round and full with child, and my daughter consistently moved and squirmed inside me. I was glowing, and loved that time in my life. And I treasured being quite pregnant at the time of year when we celebrate Christ's birth. I loved the anticipation of meeting my dear little girl, and getting to know her life.
Unlike Mary, I do not have knowledge of a prophesy predicting how Lorelei's life will go (nor do I want one), but I also know enough to know that I need to treasure the moments I can, just like Mary did. So, on Lorelei's first Christmas, these are the moments I treasure in my heart:
A couple of weeks before Christmas, we decorated our tree. Lorelei, of course, did not understand what was going on, but she was so involved with the action. She helped unwrap ornaments, grabbed them off the table and floor, and promptly stuck them in her mouth. I sat her on my lap and showed her some of my favorite ones. We dressed her in Christmas pajamas, and let her crawl around the living room. After the tree was decorated, we turned on only the Christmas lights, so the rest of the room was dark. We held her up to the tree, and watched as her eyes fixated on the lights, and her tiny hands reached out to grab them. She stared and smiled and snuggled and watched in wonder and awe.
My daddy brought Lorelei a Christmas dress from Germany. It was simple and elegant, a dark brown courduroy with a satin braid around the collar and a light layer of tulle underneath. Equipped only with a brief description during a transatlantic phone call, and a couple of cell phone pictures, I bought her shoes and made her a hairband the day before we saw it for real. Even though it was still a few days before Christmas, I had to try it on her the moment he brought it home. It fit her perfectly, and she looked so beautiful.
On Christmas Eve, we went to church, and like always, Lorelei was rather squirmy, and eventually had to be taken out of the fellowship hall. However, during the music, she had a blast. She knows how to "dance" now, and she bobbed and wiggled to the Christmas carols with such a huge grin on her face.
After church, we went to my Aunt Lisa and Uncle Ron's house for a big Christmas Eve dinner. A bunch of my Italian relatives were there, and it was overwhelming and loud and full of love. Lorelei was passed around from aunt to uncle to cousin, and was snuggled and kissed and loved enough to tide her over until next Christmas. She was such a good girl, and loved trying new foods (like Spanakopita!), and receiving astronomical amounts of attention.
On Christmas morning, Lorelei woke up around 7, and I brought her to the living room where Allen and I had slept the night before. I nursed her under the tree, and snuggled with her, so excited to begin her first Christmas day. We placed her stocking in front of her, and encouraged her to pull her gifts out. We tried to show her how to tear the wrapping paper (she was not interested in it), and tried to show her each and every present slowly (she was not interested in them either). She preferred to sit in our laps and chew on anything that she got. But I could tell she sensed our excitement.
Christmas day, we were at Allen's family's, and Lorelei was very tired. She fit the typical stereotype of the baby who couldn't care less about her gifts, but did not fit the stereotype of the baby who preferred to play with the paper and boxes. Instead, she wanted nothing to do with any of the opening of gifts (though they are some of her favorites now), and alternated between being very clingy, and getting into everything. As frustrating as it was to constantly chase around an overwhelmed and overtired little girl, I treasure the fact that with everything going on that Christmas day, what she most wanted to do was climb in Allen's and my arms.
When we got home late Christmas evening, she was fast asleep. We put her to bed, still in her little red dress, and surveyed the mountain of gifts that now covered our living room. Our little darling had no idea how significant this day was in her life as she slept peacefully in her crib. She did not know that very soon, she would rip through all her gifts faster than it would take to wrap just one, or that she may prefer to play with toys than snuggle with momma someday. She did not know that we were celebrating the birth of a baby like her. All she knew is that she is loved, and that when she woke up, we would be there.
And she always is, and we always will.
"I'm bursting with God-news;
I'm dancing the song of my Savior God.
God took one good look at me, and look what happened—
I'm the most fortunate woman on earth!
What God has done for me will never be forgotten,
the God whose very name is holy, set apart from all others..." (Luke 1:46-47)
"Mary kept all these things to herself, holding them dear, deep within herself." (Luke 2:19)
The Message Translation