Out of the Darkness: The Wonder of Birth at Christmas

I was jolted awake, unable to fully register what time it was. The voice on the other end told me it was time. In my half-wakeful state, I tried to make decisions about transportation, clothing and other necessities, worried all the while that if I delayed too long I would miss the main event.

I packed everything I thought I would need for the day, and loaded the car, grateful for the light of the full moon filling my dark street with its glow.

I thought of Mary and Joseph, far from home, no GPS to lead them to the nearest vacant place. Mary, possibly already in labor, breathing through contractions, Joseph urging her on, that they would be there soon. Only to find that when they arrived, preparations were not as they’d hoped.

But when I arrived, I found that things were not as imminent as we thought. I was a spectator, hour after long quiet hour. Watching the mother as she paced back and forth. Again, I thought of that night so many thousands of years ago. The scriptures don’t describe Mary’s feelings or any other details about her labor. Was it long? Was she afraid? I know for sure she didn’t have doctors and nurses giving her orders or setting requirements. But perhaps there were bossy relatives or neighbors dropping in, giving their opinions, encouraging her to eat or walk or rest when they thought she needed to.

It had been more than four years since my own final birth experience, and I found I had mixed feelings.

The beauty, the wonder, the unmitigated difficulty. The pain. I hadn’t quite forgotten the pain. Even as an observer, the memories came rushing back.

But then he was suddenly here. Taking much longer to make an appearance than his mother, or any of us expected or would have chosen. Not unlike the Messiah himself, arriving at the time of the Father’s choosing despite centuries of groaning.

Nearly a full day passes before I pack up and head home again. Filled with wonder and yet also hungry and tired. I think of this little one in my mind, his name not yet entirely decided on. I’m inexorably drawn back to that other little one, born over 2000 years ago. Fully God, Fully Man. Casting off all of the trappings of the divine to be fully human. Allowing himself to be fragile and frail. The power of his destiny handed to his human parents. A treasure to be stewarded, as all children are, but this one was also the beloved of heaven. All so we could share equally in that belovedness.

After shower and food, I snuggle into bed with the words of a familiar song in my mind.

“For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us, a Son is given,
Unto us, a Son is given,
And the government shall be upon His shoulder;
And the government shall be upon His shoulder;
and his name shall be called
Wonderful
Counsellor,
the Mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace
the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace ”