We Should Thank Our Mom’s On Our Birthdays

Happy Jesus’ Birthday everyone!

It will be a great day today.  Time to spend with family and friends.   We’ll have good food to eat.   Nessie made ham last night for her “first traditional” Christmas Eve dinner.  I hope she knows we’re using it today for sandwiches!  Not to mention my cookies are staying in the freezer and we’ll be eating her home made cookies.  Mine aren’t home made until I bake them.   Some little woman named Nestle did most of the work for me.   Nice lady.

We’re warming up the cabin so Grace O’Malley can go out and see if Santa showed up.  I know he stopped by their apartment down stairs.  But maybe he stopped out there too.  No hurry.   If we go by their schedule it will be awhile before we go out there.

We didn’t make solid plans today.  Well, kind of we did.  We made plans to do what we wanted.  Maybe we’ll go to a movie.  Maybe we will not.   Maybe we’ll go visit.  But we might have visitors here.  The most solid plan we made I guess was to just enjoy the day.

My personal and private plan today is to remember the reason I am sitting at home on a Friday morning with my family.

Christmas is a joyous occasion.  But am I the only one who celebrates with a little tug at my heart?  I mean, in a few short months we will be walking in to Easter.   Maybe it’s being a mom.  And knowing the whole story.   But I bet from Mary’s place in the world, the birth of her son Jesus, and the life they shared until the day she walked that tortured path with Him and watched Him die for us seemed as short as the time it takes us to go from this day today, until Good Friday.  I can hardly celebrate with out feeling the beginnings of a pain.  What this Man did for us then, so that we can celebrate eternity with Him, makes me look at the Baby in the manger differently than any other baby.   Maybe that’s obvious and a “duh” comment to make.  Besides the obvious, that this is Jesus Christ, He was still a baby.   Mary’s baby.  She gave birth.  She nurtured Him.  Fed him.  Changed His little diapered butt.    Loved Him.  Hugged Him.  Raised Him.  Disciplined Him.  Laughed with Him.   She rasied her Son to give Him up for us.  I can’t help but hurt a little extra on Christmas knowing what this mom went through.   Knowing the rewards of Jesus’ death for us, or His place in heaven, does not take away the pain I feel for Mother Mary on this day.   And looking at the Baby in the manger, knowing what we will do to Him.

Maybe that’s a little too deep for Christmas.   Or maybe it’s not deep enough, or pondered enough,  amidst all of the pretty lights and discarded wrappings.

Happy Birthday Jesus.  Thank you Mary.  You are a good Mom.

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