Mary
The last several years at Christmas, the songs that I find myself most moved by are the ones about Mary. This is undoubtedly connected to motherhood. With each child I have been more and more in awe of the miracle life. I feel incredibly blessed to be a woman and a participant in such an amazing thing. The wonders and complexities of housing another life inside my own body, the beautiful pain of birth, and the exhausting joys of feeding and nurturing a totally dependent human being.
When Pierce was a couple days old, I remember just staring at his tiny, fragile fingers lying on my hand. They were so delicate, I could hardly feel their weight. I had Jaret take pictures so I would never forget the awe I felt looking at the perfection there.
As they all grow, there are obviously not constant moments of awe-more like constant craziness-but my life is totally intwined with theirs. There are precious moments and times of great stress, because I am being spent in raising up humans lives that are full of their own hard times and happiness. Behind all of the daily moments, I am fiercely committed to try to make sure things are well with them.
So I think of Mary and feel a kinship with her. Imagining that we have both experienced similar moments and emotions, though hers were possibly more intense because she knew that Jesus was Israel's salvation.
And I think; What would it have been like to adore him as her tiny son and imagine his future? Excitement, hope, fear? And then at the cross to see her people absolutely hate and kill him? To see all her hopes and love and spent energy culminate in that? It had to be such intense pain.
Last night after tearily listening to a couple of 'Mary' songs, something new struck me. I so easily empathize with her pain, yet I actually bear guilt for causing it! As one mother to another, I feel I owe her a debt of gratitude. As a Christian of 23 years, I'm amazed that a story so familiar can still be new to my heart. Humbled again for the price that was paid for my life.
When Pierce was a couple days old, I remember just staring at his tiny, fragile fingers lying on my hand. They were so delicate, I could hardly feel their weight. I had Jaret take pictures so I would never forget the awe I felt looking at the perfection there.
As they all grow, there are obviously not constant moments of awe-more like constant craziness-but my life is totally intwined with theirs. There are precious moments and times of great stress, because I am being spent in raising up humans lives that are full of their own hard times and happiness. Behind all of the daily moments, I am fiercely committed to try to make sure things are well with them.
So I think of Mary and feel a kinship with her. Imagining that we have both experienced similar moments and emotions, though hers were possibly more intense because she knew that Jesus was Israel's salvation.
And I think; What would it have been like to adore him as her tiny son and imagine his future? Excitement, hope, fear? And then at the cross to see her people absolutely hate and kill him? To see all her hopes and love and spent energy culminate in that? It had to be such intense pain.
Last night after tearily listening to a couple of 'Mary' songs, something new struck me. I so easily empathize with her pain, yet I actually bear guilt for causing it! As one mother to another, I feel I owe her a debt of gratitude. As a Christian of 23 years, I'm amazed that a story so familiar can still be new to my heart. Humbled again for the price that was paid for my life.
Comments