christmas, for mom

The humble and the simple, clinging to life, in a stable, of all places.

Did His mother think..."No, not here, he can't be born here! The setting is not right, the atmosphere not proper for a king!"

In this week of christmas, I longed for voices raised in praise. Yet, when I did raise mine it was shrilly, in frustration. I wished for Martha Stewart and turned into Martha, complaining to Jesus, that sister Mary wasn't doing her share, nor was anyone else. Moms get tired and moms forget to get on their knees and listen to the child born humbly. Moms try to create atmosphere forgetting that God Himself came to a stable. Moms try to make sure everyone has gifts, forgetting that the Child had nothing. Moms go to church on Christmas and their ears don't hear the message the shepherds heard in amazement.

Some mom's hold broken children and need to feel the Christ child's love. This child holds a broken mother and slowly the love seeps into her. And finally the message sinks in.

Humble, broken, and redeemed. In the still and small voice. In the small lousy stable. In a petty cranky heart. God passes through.

Feathers in the wind, clasping for dear life, learn to let go, to trust and be blown.

And He, wee child grown into a man, didn't complain. And He, wee child grown into God calls us all to Him. To trust, to let go, and to follow....one by one until He comes a second time.