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Christmas—A Celebration of a Life
The Christmas season has come again and I find myself reminiscing of past Christmases. As I pull out my memory book a clear picture appears—the Christmas we were expecting the birth of our first child.
Snuggled in our big chair the three of us share cozy togetherness. I gaze at our tiny pine tree, trimmed with miniature red balls and a string of lights, which my husband has rescued from someone’s garbage and repaired. We are poor. There is no money for gifts. I had read aloud an animal story book, recording it onto tape, and now present my humble gift to my hubby. Hugging my tummy and patting our baby I feel rich. The gift of this child is enough for me.
A few weeks later I give birth to a beautiful daughter and it is Christmas all over again!
Another memory surfaces from further back in my childhood days. I’m bouncing along in the back of a truck, sandwiched between college students who are eating oranges and singing. It’s a sunny Christmas day in Chiapas, Mexico and Daddy has decided to take all the students on an outing. Spirits are high and I feel excited. Pulling off the gravel road Daddy parks the truck under a tree near a bubbling river. Clutching my bag which contains swimming clothes and a towel I follow the group of girls toward the river. We search for the perfect swimming hole upstream, while the guys splash downstream seeking their own. The water is icy, daring me to immerse my body in its wetness. I plunge, then climb upon a sunny rock and watch my friends splashing each other, squealing and laughing. I’m starving when the picnic lunch is spread on the grass amid a grove of trees.
I turn the page of my memory book and see another picture. I’m standing beside a large pond with tears running down my cheeks. It is Christmas, my first away from my family. I long to go swimming, but it is far too cold. There’s a skim of ice along the pond’s edge. The trees are naked against a gray sky. I feel lonesome and left out. I wonder what my boyfriend and his family are doing to celebrate Christmas and wish I were with them. He had come yesterday to give me his gift—a wooden plaque with my name on it and a small diary. Drying my tears I turn away from the cold pond and climb the trail back to my friend’s house where I am spending my vacation from boarding academy. I decide to record my 17th Christmas in the little diary.
Another memory surfaces and I’m climbing the steps into our church on Christmas morning. A friend greets us, “You haven’t had that baby yet?” All morning I hear comments such as, “You should have your baby today on Christmas.” Actually, I’ve been trying to have my baby for two weeks! I’ve walked and wiggled in an effort to dislodge our baby from my womb. I desire to hold him or her in my arms on Christmas! Later I open gifts from family, but can do nothing about unwrapping the present I want the most. I will have to wait. . .
My son made his appearance the next evening, right on his due date, and I realized the reality of that Christmas night when Mary labored to bring forth her firstborn Son. Tenderly I cuddle my 7 pound son and feel it is truly Christmas.
Pages later I come to a memory I’ll never forget. My husband and I drive down the city street and turn into the parking garage at the largest hospital in town. Pushing the elevator button for level 5 we clasp hands and smile. We are headed to see our first grand baby, a precious, tiny girl. Outside the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit I pick up the phone and ask the nurse to open the door. Next we stop to scrub at the sinks before going to the room where Michaela lay in her isolette. I gaze at our Christmas miracle, and marvel at God’s gift of life. Born at 24 weeks gestation she’d lived! However, despite all the medical technology she contracted an infection that threatened to snuff out her life. Tonight I watch Michaela sleeping and thank God again for the miracle of healing, remembering how she’d been so sick and now was gaining weight. I long to hold and rock my grand baby, but I can only stroke her with my finger. Quietly I sing, “Away in a manger, no crib for a bed. The little Lord Jesus lay down His sweet head.”
Later we sit in a church listening to a Christmas concert, but my heart and thoughts are yet in the NICU with a tiny baby. Every song and sentiment expressed takes me to the stable. I see both a manger and an isolette. I see two babies. This year the Christmas story is more vivid. I sense the miracle of that moment in history. Because Jesus chose to come to this earth, to be born as a baby, and live as the Savior I have hope. Tonight I have hope of holding my granddaughter and seeing her grow up.
Three years later Christmas finds me in another hospital. With a little hand tucked in mine we make our way along the corridors of the maternity floor. Michaela is eager to hold her newborn brother and see her Mommy and Daddy. My daughter has given birth to her firstborn son just before Christmas. In the family tradition of Christmas births we’ve come full circle. Three generations sit together marveling at the miracle of a baby.
As I close my memory book of former Christmases I feel a kinship to Mary. I wonder what emotions she experienced that night as she gave birth to the Son of God and laid her newborn in a manger.
I’ve come to realize that Christmas is a celebration of a Life. It isn’t about outings and whether I can go swimming or not. It isn’t about how much money I have to spend on gifts for family and friends. It isn’t about food, a tree and decorations either. It’s about Jesus, the most precious baby ever born. This Christmas I want to make another memory—one of love and giving—as I rejoice in the most wonderful birth. I plan to join the angels in singing anthems of praise to my Savior and King.
By Barbara Ann Kay
December 2007
My precious grandchildren
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Our Father's Gift
Our Father sent a gift of love,A perfect, tiny Babe,To brighten lives, to cheer the heartsOf those He came to save.Our Father sent a gift of peaceTo everyone on earth,Announced by heavenly angelsAt Jesus’ glorious birth.Our Father sent His precious Son,Wrapped in humility,Arms outstretched to be a friendFor all eternity.
"For unto us a child is born,
Unto us a son is given;
And the government shall be upon his shoulder.
His name shall be called
Wonderful Counselor,
The mighty God,
The everlasting Father,
The Prince of Peace."
Isaiah 9:6
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The Gift of JesusThe greatest gift ever given,Wrapped in a bundle small,Came with love from heaven above,A Savior for us all.The brightest Light ever shining,Announced by the angel’s song,Came to dispel the darkness,Revealing right from wrong. The most wonderful tree ever cut,Was one that became a cross,Where the Light of the world was nailed,Redeeming Love for the lost.Jesus gave the gift of Himself,Which He offers us yet today,Life everlasting, the spirit of love,The Light, the Truth, the Way.
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The Christmas Season may be joyful or painful for you;a time of memories either happy for sad.I have had numerous sorrowful Christmas seasons,yet amid the tears I have waited beside the weary roadand listened to the angels sing, as the words go ofthe carol "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear"and rested in the love of Jesus.Christmas is to be a celebration of Jesus.
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copyright by Barbara Kay 2009
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