Adorable Babies

When babies won’t or can’t sleep, it affects their behavior and everyone else’s. When they do sleep, they look like angels.

My three young grandbabies are doing much better with the demands of their five-hour time change and are creeping toward a manageable schedule. And that means their parents are doing better, too.

During this Christmas season, I’m in awe that God chose to send the Savior of all humanity as a “regular” baby, conceived miraculously but born in the usual way. He was as helpless as any newborn and needed the same round-the-clock care. Did he sleep through the night right away? Did he cry when he hadn’t had enough sleep? Did he have fussy times during his day?

I’d like to think he was the perfect child, but my guess is he was much like my grandbabies, once in a while out of sorts, sometimes sleepless. Even though Jesus was divine, he was also fully human, truly like us, and his behavior probably followed suit.

What a wonder that God used helpless baby-flesh to clothe (and house) his Son. He had a human mom, a human dad, and at least six human siblings. He led a normal life for 30 years, being raised in an ordinary home with a carpenter as head of his family. I find this to be both mysterious and impressive.

There were other ways God could have sent a Savior to the world: as a reigning king who was part of a royal family; as a harsh Dictator who insisted on loyalty; as a successful Warrior who gained followers through violence; or as a Student who initiated a revolution. But a helpless infant? Fascinating. I believe God simply wanted him to be like us, all the way.

Because of his start-to-finish humanity, we have confidence he understands our plight. Whatever we’ve felt, he’s felt. Whatever temptations we’ve had, he’s had. Whatever disappointment, fear or sadness we’ve experienced, he’s experienced. Knowing he didn’t have to limit himself to human flesh but did it anyway makes us want to get close to him. Only true love could prompt such a choice, and we find ourselves loving him because he loved us first.

And this is the miracle of Christmas. The loving plan of his coming to us was the only way we could eventually go to him. And although the Christ child’s infant mind wasn’t thinking about it, his willingness to be born as a baby was step #1 to making salvation possible.

And after Mary and Joseph coaxed newborn Jesus to sleep those first few nights of his human life, I’m sure they knelt next to his manger-bed and said, as all young parents (including Hans and Katy) say, “Isn’t he angelic?”

The only difference was, their baby had actually created angels and was far above being angelic.

“The Word became human and made his home among us. He came into the very world he created.” (John 1:14,10a)

Making Preparations

Today is the Saturday after Thanksgiving, the day after Black Friday, and much of the country has begun its enthusiastic preparation for Christmas. For many years that was true for our family, too. We kept our 22 boxes of decorations under the stairs in a “secret” closet in which no adult could straighten up. It dictated assembly-line emptying of the decorations, smallest people farthest in.

Every family relishes the fun of opening their boxes again and pulling out Christmas items that mean something special only to them. It’s like participating in a private holiday festival, half silly and half magical.

Nate was never big on setting out decorations or stringing lights. His enthusiasm was strongest for choosing the tree, sawing off the stump and getting it upright. He usually finished by wiring the trunk to the window behind it, hoping it wouldn’t “go overboard again this year.”

The rest of the family lost interest long before the tree was completely trimmed, but that never dimmed my holiday spirit. After they’d all been bathed and bedded down, and after Nate had settled into his nightly “bathtub hydrotherapy” with a good book, I’d head back to the boxes and put on my middle-aged-mom-music, decorating well into the night.

Today Birgitta and I did some shopping and enjoyed seeing newly purchased Christmas trees tied to the tops of cars heading home for the decorating ritual. Their ordinary evergreen would soon be transformed into a lighted, sparkling wonder, the focal point of their home for a month.

As we arrived home, our next door neighbors had finished decorating their pretty picket fence with garlands and lights, and in the twilight it was a welcoming sight. Last Christmas, seven weeks after Nate died, none of us were feeling merry. We did have a tiny, lopsided excuse-for-a-tree, but most of us were just hoping to “get Christmas over with.”

This Christmas will be different. Our “new family” will be together, which means we’ll be minus Nate but plus Micah, Evelyn and Thomas. Little children can serve as God’s instruments of joy, coaxing us to surrender to laughter and good cheer. Just imagining their expressions of glee at the ornaments and lights will make the decorating fun, even if I do it alone.

But while eagerly pulling out the boxes marked “Christmas”, I have to ask if I’m equally energized to ponder the magnificent coming of Christ. Have I lived through so many Christmases my subconscious tells me I know everything there is to know?

Jesus Christ, the Messiah of Christmas, has more depth to him than any of us can possibly comprehend. His interest in saving us, his unique way of accomplishing it and the love he expressed by becoming human are mind-boggling concepts we’ll think about throughout eternity.

As I decorate the house and yard, I’ve asked the Lord to show me something brand new about himself during this season.

And because I’ve prayed that, I’ll be eagerly anticipating his answer, watching for it, waiting for it and knowing it will come.

“The child [Jesus] grew and became strong; he was filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was on him.” (Luke 2:40)