As we travel toward December 25th, I will be marking the four weeks of Advent with this series – Pregnant with Christmas. You can read part one here, part two here and part three over here. With one child born two days after Christmas and my tummy full of another one right now, so many of my thoughts are on that teenage mother of 2,000 years ago and her un-shakeable faith. So, each Sunday I will offer part of my own stumbling journey toward motherhood and what I’ve learned from watching Mary’s. I hope you’ll join me. And teach me.
All I want is to be in church. Right in the deep of the service in a row not far from the front.
In a sea of my favorite Christmas carols, letting the music wash over me and my tired, inevitable, third-trimester-waddle. I want to sink into that place of remembering what happened that night. I want to embrace Mary in my mind and watch as the Father God Maker of the Heavens sent His Son into the silent planet, behind a veil of sin, that would inevitably separate them, and imagine the midwives that caught him in their wise and worn hands.
I want to stand in the dark and travel the road alongside her with every kick and stretch of this new baby in my womb. I want to walk her footsteps in my mind and listen to what heaven sounded like when it held its breath and then exhaled its hallelujahs.
But I am standing in the church nursery instead looking into the eyes of a three year-old who looks back and says quietly, stubbornly, “I want you to stay with me, mama.”
The room has been decorated for “Jesus’ Birthday” – there are cupcakes and streamers and balloons. He’s holding one of them clutched tight between chubby forefinger and thumb. It’s red, helium, and floats above his curling blonde head.
It has been marked with his name – Micah.
“But this party is for kids; I’m going back to church. If you come with me you won’t have cake. And you can’t bring your balloon.”
I’m certain that once, just once he will be swayed to stay put.
He looks at me and up at the balloon floating red and warm and delightful in the air above him. He lovingly fingers the ribbon that binds it to him. And then he turns around to the teacher and holds it out to her,
“Here,” he says softly. “You take my balloon.”
Then he spins back around and grabs at me with his empty hand – filling it up with mine.
I feel like there must be a balloon where my heart once was. I am afraid it will burst. He chooses me. A toddler chooses me over cupcakes and balloons. The nursery door is open and I catch the strains of singing; “Oh Holy Night” rises above us and blue eyes look into mine and a small hand is locked onto my fingers.
I’m on my knees.
Suddenly all I want to do is join Jesus at his birthday party. On a child’s terms. Remembering the baby that gave up heaven and came bloodied to find me. To choose me.
We both eat cupcakes. I tie the balloon tight around Micah’s wrist. I am the amnesiac who doesn’t want to forget. Babies and toddlers over choirs, the wise and Sunday sermons. A small town chosen to bear witness. A prophet who wrote it faithfully down. And the namesake who helped me remember:
But you, Bethlehem Ephrathah,
though you are small among the clans of Judah,
out of you will come for me
one who will be ruler over Israel,
whose origins are from of old,
from ancient times.”
3 Therefore Israel will be abandoned
until the time when she who is in labor bears a son,
and the rest of his brothers return
to join the Israelites.
4 He will stand and shepherd his flock
in the strength of the LORD,
in the majesty of the name of the LORD his God.
And they will live securely, for then his greatness
will reach to the ends of the earth.
~Micah 5:2-4.
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Join me on the 25th for the last in this series? You can subscribe to my free updates here.
You couldn’t be more speaking to me if you tried. This week I had plans for a great Christmas vacation, time with family and friends, activities, maybe seeing the new Narnia movie with the kids. But I got the stomach flu, and all the kids did. And the dog did. So, no travel. No friends. It’s raining outside and I want to cry. This isn’t the Christmas I wanted.
But it is a place where I can sit still and enjoy the wonder of what He did.
So I’ll join you in the “not part of the official festivities” party. :) And I’m looking forward to seeing what He’ll do in my own heart this week.
You pretty much rock. Just so ya know.
This one brought tears to my eyes. Thanks for living it, feeling it, writing it. Love you, and Merry real Christmas.
And you chose the very best, Mother/Hero!
And He chose US!!!! Amazing! He came to our “party” for us!
What a testimony. The one you live in and out as well as the one we get to discover on ancient, sacred pages. I am in awe of our God. Who is like you, Oh Lord?!
Lifting you and your precious, forming baby in prayer this Christmas season. You are a blessing!
What a beautiful story you shared today – it had me welling up with the love God has given you for your son and him for you.
Oh Lisa-Jo – how beautiful. I remember being like Micah with my mom. I cried every day for the first four months of kindergarten, because I missed her. In fact, when I was two or three, I told my mom I didn’t want to go to a babysitter’s house. She asked why, and I said “they aren’t my favorite.” She said, who is. I said, “You, Mom.” It’s a beautiful story, and so full of God’s love. Wrap yourself and your sons and your daughter in it today.
Love,
Hilary
I was on permanent duty in the nursery when my son was a baby. He absolutely would not stay without me. I thought I would never get to be in “Big Church” ever again.
But I am back in “Big Church,” and my shy baby now has five children of his own. You will never, ever regret those moments Lisa-Jo. I’m so glad you stayed for the party.
How did you get to be so wise at such a tender age?
Our love for our sons is modelled after Him—-He knows how it feels to love a son so much, too…..His Son–our Savior.
Wishing a very meaningful and merry Christmas to you and your family!
What a great post. Lovely imagery.
Oh, so precious. What a tender reminder of how our little ones need us, how we need to be needed, so that Jesus can keep ever-drawing us to His upside-down, topsy-turvy truth.
I’m also seeking to step away from the shopping, and the wrapping, and the events that consume us at Christmas…to pursue more giving, and fewer gifts. Thank you, thank you, for the words of wisdom!
http://freeagentmommy.typepad.com/blog/2010/12/more-giving-fewer-gifts.html
Thank you for this. Merry Christmas!
Lisa-Jo,
Last Sunday I ended up in the nursery unexpectedly… and found I was glad Jesus had it planned out that way for me. So glad HE chose me too!
Christmas Eve is my “birthday”. I received Christ on Christmas Eve in 1991… best gift I ever got!!
Will be back for the final chapter of this series on the 25th!
Merry Christmas to you and yours,
{hugs}
Sharon
How did I miss this series? I’m all caught up now, while eating my breakfast :)
This is so beautiful. You inspire me, and I know you’ll be a wonderful mother to your daughter!
Looking forward to the Christmas day post!
I love this Lisa-Jo! And ‘the turn’ when he picks you and you pick him! Oh for precious three year-old blond loves…oh for sweetness of hearts and yes, oh, for He who chose us and came in humility epitomized as never before nor ever will be…all the carols and choruses in your heart as you eat cupcakes…my little love when he yells, ‘mommy!!!’ and runs to me when I’m gone for an hour grocery shopping…yes, this does speak of Him, doesn’t it?
I will love to join you on the 25th!
SO beautiful… I love your blog. God bless you.
Hi Lisa – this is your shirt tail or end of the shoe string cousin. I am first cousins with your mom-in-law. I just got her Christmas letter and checked out your blog – love it. As you can see I have one too. I am looking forward to connecting with you and reading your past as well as your future blogs. Tell Deb I said hello – hope you all have a very Merry Christmas.
Diane