At the time when we celebrate Christ’s birth, I think sometimes we overlook it’s significance. As a parent now, I experience the amazingness (haha my own made up word) of raising a son myself. Every day is a new joy and a new challenge. Every day I’m reminded how fortunate I am. I realize this year what a miracle a child is... and even moreso, what a miracle a virgin birth is, and just as much, the everyday life of Mary and Joseph raising a son as a child, but having the unique challenge of raising the Son of God.
Here’s a little of my reflection:
It’s 7:00 a.m.
The alarm has not gone
And I hear a hand beating
Like the sound of a drum,
And some babbling coming
From the end of the hall,
And I know my days started at the sound of your call.
And up from the crib you reach up to me,
And I’m no longer concerned about the little lost sleep,
With your beautiful smile you light up my day.
And I look forward to watching you learn as you play.
And I wonder if Mary felt the same way.
And your little soft feet now pitter my floor
From hallway to table, from window to door,
And on an occasion you’ll slip and you’ll fall,
And my little heart breaks though there are no tears at all.
And I want to protect you from all of life’s pain,
From every scraped knee to every mean name,
And I wonder if Mary thought the same thing.
And I’ll watch as you grow and experience life,
All of the joy and all of the strife,
And I’ll pray you find Jesus and follow Him close,
That you’ll follow His path for you, wherever it goes
Because His hand will guide you better than I,
I wonder if Mary knew her Son could save mine.
And it’s 2000 years ago in the mid of the night,
Man and a woman in midst of a fright,
Have no bed to rest on, No room in the inn,
And the little boy’s coming, His life would begin.
The only birth that gave birth to light,
As a star appeared in the midst of the sky,
And I wonder if Mary had any clue why.
And her baby like mine, he learned to sit up,
Said his first word, drank out of a cup,
Took his first steps and then learned to read,
And I’m sure she’s as proud as any mother would be.
Is it possible she loved him the same kind of way,
That I love and cherish my son everyday?
I wonder how Mary and Jesus would play.
I’d imagine Mary was like you and like me,
Raising a baby to be what God wants them to be,
Yes, I’d imagine we could talk of our sons,
Of the joy they gave with little things done,
The bedtime routines and the silly games played,
The bedtime kisses and little prayers prayed.
I wonder if Mary knew of the lives that’d be saved.
And I wonder the memories that flooded her thoughts,
Of his first word, or the first fish he caught,
As she witnessed Him hung up on a tree,
I can’t imagine any solace that He was there to save me,
When her baby boy, the one that she loved,
Was grieving in pain and covered with blood.
Yes, to imagine our Savior born into this world,
Like you and like me, born of a girl,
Who would do her best to raise her Son right,
Often up in the midst of the night,
And I wonder what stories Mary would name
of her Son’s favorite color and His eternal reign.