There are three nativity sets in my house. My favorite is a hand-carved wooden set commissioned by some villagers in Africa. It is truly magnificent, both from an aesthetic purpose and in terms of social justice issues. The second is a hanging Advent calendar made from Fisher Price’s “Little People.” There are twenty-five figures (animals, shepherds, magi, angels, and of course Mary, Joseph, and Jesus), one for each day in December. My kids take turns pulling the daily figure and sticking it onto the manger scene. They grow in excitement with each new figure for they know they are one day closer to Christmas. There is one other “toy” nativity that sits on our coffee table. I love watching my three preschoolers act out various scenes and narrations. “It’s okay Jesus, we are your mommy and daddy.” My four-year-old informed me that the “Stable story is stuck in her head. You know, the one with shepherds, angels, and Mary, Joseph, and Jesus.”
I love the purity the nativity scenes add to my house. I love the enthusiasm and anticipation that comes so naturally with the Advent season. But I think we are missing something.
I started pondering and meditating on the birth story. And then I thought about my giving birth stories. They are bloody messes complete with afterbirth and slime. And yes, one does “forget” about the pain of childbirth the moment you look into your newborn’s eyes, but the reality is childbirth is painful. Jesus was not magically lifted out of Mary’s womb. He did not come out shiny and clean. While I am sure Mary had that same smile that most new moms cannot keep from happening, odds were she was exhausted. And maybe, if Mary was anything like me (which I cannot even compare myself to her selfless obedience), she was just a little annoyed that her husband got to experience all the joys of a new child without having the nine months of gestation complete with morning sickness, sleepless nights, swollen ankles, and an ever increasing body size that no longer fits in a restaurant booth. And we have not even spoken of the hours of hard labor. Childbirth is messy.
While I have no intention of ruining the cleanliness of my children’s nativity scenes, nor do I plan on teaching them about the messiness of childbirth at this juncture of their development, I do wish to pass on the message that all presents do not come wrapped up in pretty little packages with bows on top. Sometimes life’s greatest blessings are discovered in the midst of a mess. In the case of grace, the package both entered and exited life a bloody mess.
I love the purity the nativity scenes add to my house. I love the enthusiasm and anticipation that comes so naturally with the Advent season. But I think we are missing something.
I started pondering and meditating on the birth story. And then I thought about my giving birth stories. They are bloody messes complete with afterbirth and slime. And yes, one does “forget” about the pain of childbirth the moment you look into your newborn’s eyes, but the reality is childbirth is painful. Jesus was not magically lifted out of Mary’s womb. He did not come out shiny and clean. While I am sure Mary had that same smile that most new moms cannot keep from happening, odds were she was exhausted. And maybe, if Mary was anything like me (which I cannot even compare myself to her selfless obedience), she was just a little annoyed that her husband got to experience all the joys of a new child without having the nine months of gestation complete with morning sickness, sleepless nights, swollen ankles, and an ever increasing body size that no longer fits in a restaurant booth. And we have not even spoken of the hours of hard labor. Childbirth is messy.
While I have no intention of ruining the cleanliness of my children’s nativity scenes, nor do I plan on teaching them about the messiness of childbirth at this juncture of their development, I do wish to pass on the message that all presents do not come wrapped up in pretty little packages with bows on top. Sometimes life’s greatest blessings are discovered in the midst of a mess. In the case of grace, the package both entered and exited life a bloody mess.
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