Pregnancy during Advent
For much of the Advent season last year, I was pregnant.
If you are a married Christian, I totally recommend taking the opportunity to be pregnant during Advent, should it arise. As my husband put it, "It gives a whole new meaning to waiting for a child to be born." I thought a lot about Mary's pregnancy with our Lord as I carried my son, and as I went into labor (and went into labor... and went into labor... and went into labor). I wondered about her labor, her pregnancy, and Jesus' birth. I don't know if it was particularly more spiritual than other Advent seasons, but it did help me look at the story differently, consider it from new angles.
And on the day we celebrate the birth of Christ, I had a two-week-old son I was struggling to nurse. (No Christmas pageant at my church, though he certainly would have made a sweet Baby Jesus).
What would Mary have been thinking as Jesus was about two months old? Would it have been clear how special He was, if not for prophesy and predictions made to Joseph and her? Was He brighter and more alert than other babies? Was there a glimmer in His eyes of the soul that existed before the world began? His looks were ordinary, that we might not know Him by those. But as Mary fell into the rhythms of life with her Firstborn Son, were there moments when it was clear that He was also the Firstborn of all creation? Or as He ate and slept and pooped and cried and stared at His mommy and daddy, did He seem like any other two-month-old baby, special in how He entered the world but not in how He dwelled there? Were there moments when Jesus woke in the middle of the night and she asked herself, "Is He really who the angel said He would be? How could this tiny, dependent Baby ever be the One to save us all?" Or was it clear somehow even as she bathed and swaddled and fed her son that he was also the Son of the Most High?
It's an interesting exercise, and one I suspect I'll be doing all of Third's life. All children are miracles--all people--and it's hard to imagine that one day these tiny little people who depend so much on me, who started out as single cells, will one day be a grown woman and a grown man. Third may not be a messiah, but one day he could be a pastor or a doctor or a lawyer or an accountant or even a senior software engineer. But now he lies sleeping at my breast.
If you are a married Christian, I totally recommend taking the opportunity to be pregnant during Advent, should it arise. As my husband put it, "It gives a whole new meaning to waiting for a child to be born." I thought a lot about Mary's pregnancy with our Lord as I carried my son, and as I went into labor (and went into labor... and went into labor... and went into labor). I wondered about her labor, her pregnancy, and Jesus' birth. I don't know if it was particularly more spiritual than other Advent seasons, but it did help me look at the story differently, consider it from new angles.
And on the day we celebrate the birth of Christ, I had a two-week-old son I was struggling to nurse. (No Christmas pageant at my church, though he certainly would have made a sweet Baby Jesus).
What would Mary have been thinking as Jesus was about two months old? Would it have been clear how special He was, if not for prophesy and predictions made to Joseph and her? Was He brighter and more alert than other babies? Was there a glimmer in His eyes of the soul that existed before the world began? His looks were ordinary, that we might not know Him by those. But as Mary fell into the rhythms of life with her Firstborn Son, were there moments when it was clear that He was also the Firstborn of all creation? Or as He ate and slept and pooped and cried and stared at His mommy and daddy, did He seem like any other two-month-old baby, special in how He entered the world but not in how He dwelled there? Were there moments when Jesus woke in the middle of the night and she asked herself, "Is He really who the angel said He would be? How could this tiny, dependent Baby ever be the One to save us all?" Or was it clear somehow even as she bathed and swaddled and fed her son that he was also the Son of the Most High?
It's an interesting exercise, and one I suspect I'll be doing all of Third's life. All children are miracles--all people--and it's hard to imagine that one day these tiny little people who depend so much on me, who started out as single cells, will one day be a grown woman and a grown man. Third may not be a messiah, but one day he could be a pastor or a doctor or a lawyer or an accountant or even a senior software engineer. But now he lies sleeping at my breast.
posted by Young Christian Woman at 11:37 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home