28 Questions to Ponder in Your Heart This Christmas
What do you say when you hold your baby for the first time?
This is the question I pondered when I arrived at the hospital to witness our granddaughter being held by her parents.
Do you give speeches about the inconvenience of her six-weeks-early arrival? Of the chaos of quickly throwing together the hospital bag and of grabbing the still-boxed infant car seat on the way out the door?
Do you chastise her for the expense her premature birth will mean to the family budget? Of bills from occupational therapists, lactation consultants, and neonatologists?
Do you scold her for the fear she caused? Do you give a lecture about how she better not stir up any more fear in all her days of growing up, that you already had enough to last this lifetime?
Or do you say none of those things?
Do you put her skin-to-skin into the security of your chest? Do you count her ten tiny fingers? Then touch her nose? Do you breathe on her cheek in hopes she will look at you and you can see if she has her father’s eyes?
Do you call her by name? And kiss the silky strands on her forehead?
And then, rather than speak, does a song arise from the depth of your being, a song that has never been sung by you before, but a melody that has been voiced from parents throughout the ages, by countless cultures and languages—the unrehearsed tune of a lullaby?
And maybe. Just maybe. Do you have a new understanding of this Christmas season, when God became a baby and dwelt among us? Do you wonder how Mary responded when she held her son?
Did Mary give a speech about the inconvenience of Jesus’ arrival? Of the long trek from Nazareth to Bethlehem while nine months pregnant? Of the cost of multiple days on the road and the jostle of fellow travelers making the same journey?
Did Mary scold him for the fear he caused, of giving birth in a stable with no family around and only the animals for company? Did Mary give a lecture about how Jesus better not cause any more fear in all his days of growing up, that she already had enough to last her lifetime?
Or did Mary place him skin-to-skin? Did she count his ten tiny fingers? Then touch his nose? Did she breathe on his cheek in hopes that he would look at her and she could see if he had his Father’s eyes?
Did she call him by name? And kiss the silky strands on his forehead? Did Mary sing an unrehearsed lullaby of welcome?
We do not know. Scriptures only tell us this about Mary’s response to that day: Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart (Luke 2:19 NIV).
Because that is what parents (and grandparents) do.
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This post recently appeared in the Ahwatukee Foothills News, The SanTan Sun News, and the East Valley Tribune.
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