Christmas has always been special, but the older I get, the more I seem to love it. Yes, the excitement of Santa and presents and family is still there…but more than anything there is a peace set a fire by the glow of a Christmas tree. It’s a peace that makes no sense considering the craziness that is the holidays, but its there nonetheless.
As I sit this morning, one babe asleep, one babe snuggled in my belly, I can’t help but think of Mary.
Truth be told, for years I paid her no mind. However, as I sit here this morning overcome with joy, and peace, and love for both my babies- my world is changed. They have both changed me to my core.
My life, my soul, my spirit is infinitely better because of their very existence – and although at times it frightens me (because the world can be a cruel, cruel place) I also can’t wait to see how they will change the world with their tiny bodies and huge spirits.
I think Mary had to have felt something similar. Yes, she was carrying the Messiah – but she was also carrying her little boy. Her world changed 9 months prior to the star, and shepherds, and kings.
I know the strength (physically and emotionally) required to raise my babes…in all their head strong (and body strong) gloriousness.
Oh, the weariness and joy of raising princes…
Oh the weariness and joy of raising The King. I can only imagine!
I’ve seen a lot of images of Mary (I have an art history minor and she’s only one of the most painted women ever.) I dislike pretty much every single one.
They don’t capture anything about her – except that she gave birth to Jesus, highlighted by the obvious halo around her and/or the toddler seated on her lap.
The essence of her, while yes, that is wrapped up in motherhood, is not captured at all! Her joy, her struggle, is often never even approached…unless it’s the pain of the cross… but what of the many years raising a toddler, a boy King. As head strong and holy as they come! What of the young mom, the young woman struggling to make sense out of her life amidst the greatest joy and most sleepless nights she’s ever known!?
This Christmas I share my favorite painting of Mary…ok, its not a portrait of Mary at all, it’s a painting by Gustav Klimt. However, every time I see it, I see a young Mary mom.
Strong, brave, and hopeful, obviously tired and scared, but oh so beautiful.
And yes tears are falling – all good moms shed tears. A lot.
Tears of gold though, not because she gave birth to The King; but because her world was so transformed by the very existence of the boy she is raising.
Because the world is in so much need of her son.
How could she cry anything less than gold for her babe, about to change the world; about to take on the world.
The song says:
A thrill of hope, a weary world rejoices…
But long before the world rejoiced, a single woman was growing a child
– a thrill of hope
– a weary woman rejoiced
…and silent golden tears fell down her cheeks on many a silent night.
Merry Christmas, from one mom, in honor of another.