Questions for Christmas
Do you remember being one of the impatient little ones squirming in your seat, anxiously waiting to hear which part you get to play in the Christmas pageant?
The questions about Christmas were short, to the point, and mostly centered on what's in it for me?
As we grew older, the Christmas story became so familiar, we just expected it to be just like last year.
Nothing changes, everyone sits at the same place around the table.
The smallest members of the family were served first, to quell their rumbly tummies, and to keep them from peeking under the tree quite so soon.
Dishes were always washed before opening gifts, so the mess wasn't staring us in the face next morning.
The Grandmas and Grandpas get to open their presents first, to teach the little ones patience, just a little bit longer.
Usually, there were a few games to play, and record players (yes, I'm showing my age here) scratching out their joyous messages of peace and goodwill.
Maybe for years, we never stopped to think about it, at all.
The cycle continues, generation after generation, we do the same thing every Christmas.
The only questions we wonder about, are what color, size and style to buy for that special someone.
"What if they already have one? What if they don't like it? Are they allergic or diabetic?
What shall we make this year? Should we go with traditional foods, or change it up a little?"
On and on, the decisions to be made get as tangled as last year's string of lights,
taking over our lives for the entire month, even earlier sometimes.
Our focus on the Christmas season gets lost in all the tinsel, wrappings,
schedules, and lists of things to do.
Oh sure, we talk about it all the while, as we shuffle from play practices to concerts,
to business parties and charity events.
But do we ever stop to think about why we do all these extra activities and needlessly stress ourselves, our family, and our pocketbooks just to make sure we get "it" all done?
Whatever "IT" may be, is most likely TOO much.
The distractions of celebrating Christmas become our whole existence,
and we may even grow to resent this time of year.
It all depends on your perspective.
What kind of questions come to your mind at Christmas?
Most of you reading this are missing someone too,
and will understand what I mean, when I say,
I only have the hard questions left, since we lost our son.
It has been four Christmas seasons without Nathanael, and no, it doesn't get easier.
Just different.
The annual quest of filling every single unrealistic expectation no longer rules the holidays.
The main goal is survival, simple and plain.
Developing thick skin, deaf ears and blind eyes to the bombardment of reminders
that our son is no longer here.
Trying with all my might, to be happy for all those grandparents proudly displaying their cherub's pictures filled with laughter and love.
They are adorable, no doubt.
But my son won't be bringing any rosy cheeked babies to be kissed.
I will be spending my time finding just the right roses to put on his grave.
We won't be adding more chairs to the table.
We have an empty one, solemnly holding one of his favorite shirts.
We won't be lighting the advent candles as we read the Christmas story,
watching little ones act out their parts.
We keep our son's candle lit whenever I need to chase away the darkness.
I am sure you know very well, what kind of questions go with these "new" traditions.
But there are a few other questions that occupy my mind as well, even more so, now that time has passed our son's days on this earth.
I have always admired Mary, the mother of the Christ child.
We don't know much about her, what was she like?
Was she beautiful, or was she just another face in the crowd?
Was she like all the girls in fairy tales, who care for every creature,
yet no one would miss her absence?
Did every available man of the village have their eyes on her,
while she only had eyes for Joseph?
Why was he so much older, and what happens to Joseph?
We do know God saw in her, something special, something pure of heart.
We also know Joseph would do anything to provide for and protect his one true love.
He didn't want to harm her reputation, or allow any danger to come her way, even when he couldn't quite understand what truly was happening with his fiance.
My questions are frequent and sometimes repetitious,
looking at the people God chose to be a part of that very first Christmas day.
How and why God sent His Son to be born in a manger?
Mary and Joseph sharing their newborn baby's bed with warm, fluffy...... dirty, stinky livestock?
God chose outback shepherds, the least liked, least welcome,
the farthest thing from royalty, to be the ones to meet the King of Kings for the very first time.
The barn was where they found the palace bassinet.
They were so excited that they told everyone they could find,
not even paying attention to the cultural boundaries of who was proper to speak to,
and who should be silent.
It didn't matter.
This was the best news the world had ever seen.
It had to be shared everywhere.
Then we have the other visitors who come later in the story.
The Magi.
Those wealthy, stargazing strangers who traveled unimaginable distance on foot,
or riding camels most likely, taking many months to arrive at their destination.
It wasn't until I became an adult, that I could comprehend what their gifts were,
being so much more than any baby shower gift I had ever seen.
Why would God go to such extreme measures to bring the greatest gift mankind will ever need?
Because my God will go to any length to show his great love for all who walk this earth.
He loves the poor, he loves the wealthy, He loves the lost, He loves the driven.
The overworked night-shift shelf stocker, the impatient lawyer, the fearless taxi driver,
the relentless politician, the paper boy, and the play boy are all the same to Him.
Anyone with a past, or present heartache, hang-up or addiction, those are the ones God loves to find and hold close to His heart.
Even, and especially, the childless mother, the fatherless child,
the lonely widow, or the self-made hermit who has lost more than one spouse.
We can see how it broke God's heart as He grew to be a man,
healing the wounded, the weary, and the brokenhearted, everywhere He went.
We can see how it broke God's heart as His Son lay dying on the cross, having to turn His eyes from the weight of sin His Son carried for us.
But at Christmas time - I can see how it broke Mary's heart to know everything she saw in her lifetime, everything she knew about her son, every hope the entire land had resting on the King of Kings' shoulders, and then, she must watch Him die.
There is a song which may be familiar to you - "Mary Did You Know?", which I have always found interesting from her point of view.
But now, as a mother who has had to bury her own son,
I understand the Christmas story even more.
I, too, had great miracles in my son's life.
I will get to that another day.
But every mother has hopes and dreams for their sons and daughters,
some secret wishes, others more concrete and realistic;
and when your child must die before you, it tears all that away.
The dreams are shattered, the chain is broken, we become crushed and confused.
This isn't how the story was supposed to end.
We shouldn't be carrying flowers to a cold, hard stone bearing our child's name.
Their chair is so, so empty and just as cold.
Our hearts are...I don't even know, how to describe their state of being?
Mary carried Jesus, before she even saw Him.
She held that little Child, not knowing His future, but expecting great things.
She watched Him grow and change and become a man to be proud of,
and simultaneously, her God to be worshipped.
What a confusing, crazy way to be a mother.
She saw His triumphant ride into Jerusalem as the people cheered "Hosanna!"
She watched in horror and disbelief as they beat Him, and spit on her Son, mocking His life.
All these thoughts flit through my mind in the short paragraphs of the Christmas story.
All these questions echo in my mind as I listen to the song.
Mary, did you know?
And you know what?
I don't think she did know, any more than God told her.
I don't think she knew much more than any mother knows, what our children will be like.
I think she had to trust God in heaven just as much as the rest of us mothers do, today.
I really don't think she was handed a "How to Raise a God/Man Baby, for Dummies" manual
after she left the stable.
She was pretty much on her own, just like every new mommy is down through the ages.
She didn't know.
Neither did I.
That is one question I am grateful, is never answered ahead of time.
I will take the Silent Night, and let my heavenly Father make it a Holy Night,
because all I can do is trust Him to light the way through this desert land
until we reach the blessed Promised Land.
Where there is no more night, no more pain, no more sorrow, no more questions.
Until then, I will slow down at Christmas,
remember Mary and how she took everything to heart,
and pondered quietly all she learned and saw and felt.
My Christmas may be filled with questions,
but as long as I can remind myself that I don't need all the answers,
there can be a brief moment or two of "Peace On Earth, Goodwill Toward Men".
Pondering life's hard questions on my journey through this desert land called Christmas
By: Sue Leerhoff
Brick by Brick
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