Pregnant and Slightly Perturbed

Okay, the sarcasm from my last post is catching up with me. ("...immoral to blog without posting pictures...") No pictures today - just some thoughts.

For the last month or so, I've been hearing this question asked over and over again to the point where it's annoyed me. No, it's not, "Are you ready for the baby to come?" or "Do you have a name picked out?" (Yes, and no.) In various forms, I've heard this question asked by reporters interviewing parade-attenders, characters in Christmas plays, and even commercials for stores where you can find the gotta-have gift.

What does Christmas mean to you?

I'm no Scrooge. My front entrance has garland, ribbon, and a wreath. I made cookies for Santa. I purposefully wore a red shirt to a Christmas party and carried homemade pumpkin bread to our neighbors. So, it took me about nine minutes of ranting to Jason before I could articulate why I'm annoyed by this question.

Being possibly three weeks away from delivering a baby boy, I've been thinking a lot about Mary, the mother of Jesus. I'm not fourteen and don't live in Israel, but I can definitely relate to her pregnancy... except for that whole being-a-virgin-and-carrying-the-Son-of-God thing. She wasn't worrying about whether or not she was drinking too much coffee, but surely she was thinking about the kind of man her baby could grow up to be. She wasn't concerned with which bedroom would be better for which kid, but she had to be a little stressed about the impending delivery and if she'd be able to raise the kid well. For all the questions I have about my own son, what must she have been going through, already having been told that he was going to be "great" and inherit the kingdom that she lived in?! What kinds of things would he go through for this? Was she educated enough to know all the prophecies that had been spoken about this person? Because then she would have been really scared for him.

I can't know what's to come for my son. I worry about whether or not I'll make good decisions on his behalf. I pray to become a good mom for the sake of him and Gabby. I daydream about trips to the ER, awkwardly answering awkward questions that kids awkwardly ask, missing clear signs of things I should be addressing...

Ironically, I've found the comfort for my fears in another baby. Knowing what happened to Mary's kid gives me hope for my own. I get why multitudes in the heavens praised God when he was born. The fullness of satisfaction that comes when I dwell on Jesus - who he is, how he loves me, what he did for me and the rest of the world - makes my heart sing with the angels that sang some 2000+ years ago. That this great ruler humbled himself enough to suffer for me at the end of his life here - that deserves my acknowledgement, admiration, devotion. Thinking on how he continues to care for me, grow me - that inspires yet more love for him. I get excited about his birth, because I know he would turn out to be a real savior for me. (Sorry, chain-store shopping bag printed with the words "We can save you." Though cleverly worded, you are something of a letdown.)

And so, knowing the changes that God has wrought in me, I trust my unborn boy, my parenting skills, and the years to come to him. Ahhh, peace.

Now, back to to What does Christmas mean to you?
I finally pinned my annoyance on the fact that there is so much in my way before I can get to the sweetness of dwelling on the birth of Jesus. The fact that we even have to ask the question "What does Christmas mean to you?" means that we are seriously distracted. Somehow, there came a point when "Christmas" could mean whatever you wanted it to mean. There's nothing inherently wrong with our traditions, our parties, our family gatherings, even our gift-giving. But doesn't it become a problem for me, as a Christian, when I'm running the Tradition Track so fast that I can only peripherally see what's on the center of the field ? Yes. And that makes me sad that so many people will miss that sweetness. Sad and annoyed at the Old Navy commercial that I secretly kinda liked.

So, I stopped giving myself a hard time about not sending the 40 Christmas cards that I bought (even though I loved the cards and especially family pictures that I got in the mail.) It just didn't happen this year (...or ever before.) And, we didn't have enough pumpkin bread for every house on our street. Oh, well. Also, I forgot to charge the stinking camera batteries for yesterday morning's present unwrapping. Stinks, but ohhhhh well.

Despite being uncomfortably 37 weeks pregnant, I've had such a great Christmas being contented in the Story and how it affects my life. It's such a great happiness that it would be what I gift to everyone if I could. In the meantime, pumpkin bread is all I've got. No - I've got this blog, and I pray this entry might cut away some of the junk for someone else.