This is an exceptional Christmas season for me. I gave birth to my daughter the day before December began and have spent the last couple weeks recovering and getting to know these new hands and this new face. Norah and I are figuring things out as best as we can. Achieving small milestones one day at a time. Getting out of bed in the morning (and in the middle of the night because she has yet to know the difference), remembering to eat meals and feed my family, changing diapers and cleaning spit up, getting rid of jaundice... small victories make up my days.
There have been no Christmas parties for me this December, no visits to the mall to see the window decorations, no shopping apart from a couple grocery store visits. I have yet to listen to the station on the radio which plays non-stop Christmas music, something I normally indulge in. I am a sucker for sentimentality, but this year... every small taste I have had of what the culture deems “Christmasy” has left me thirsty. This year... it is all about this baby.
Jesus came to earth as a baby. A crying, pooping, breastfeeding, spitting up baby. He was fully human which means the creator of the sun and the moon came to the earth in a body which at first breath knew no difference between night and day.
This Christmas eve night and in the dark early hours of December 25th, I will be up, holding and nursing and caring for a newborn baby.
And this will be my celebration of the incarnation. This is my worship. Perhaps God is opening the veil for me a little bit more this year...perhaps I will get to experience Christmas in a new way.
I have much to be thankful for.