Oommph

As I sit in my dark living room haloed by the glow of the Christmas tree and the quiet hum of my two snoring boys sweetly snuggled in the chair beside me, a muted Christmas 'Cation (as affectionately named by my sweet Sarah Kate) playing on the television across the room, I am acutely aware of the oommph of this holiday season.

 

Yes, oommph.

 

I've checked Webster and of all the words he chose to include, this one he did not. I would define it as magnitude, but tonight, oommph seems much more fitting.

 

You follow?

 

Oommph.

 

A few things that make this year even more special.

A few things that are overflowing my heart on this crisp December evening.

A few things that add oommph to this most joyous time of year. 

 

Not that anything extra is required to add magnitude to this season.

The birth of our Lord and Savior is big enough.

The story of Him being born to the virgin Mary in a stable is enough.

More than enough.

 

We don't need tinsel and lights to add sparkle to that story.

 

But something has transpired in the past year that makes that story even more meaningful, more personal to me.

 

That adds oommph.

Baker's birth - the events leading up to and the events happening since.

The journey to becoming a mother was trying.

It required a lot of faith and trust.

It was long, and it was full of heartache.

But then it wasn't.

Then it was full of celebrating and rejoicing.

 

Is this how Mary felt in her journey to becoming a mother?

I am not trying to make light of the birth of Christ.
I know the faith and trust Mary must have had is far greater than any I had to exude.
She was, in fact, carrying our Lord and Savior.

But I do know that her journey involved faith and trust and heartache and celebrating and rejoicing.

When I look at Baker, I cannot imagine the emotions Mary was experiencing on that starry night in Bethlehem.

How she looked at Baby Jesus for the first time with the overwhelming love of a mother and knew that one day his life would be offered as a sacrifice.

As a child, I memorized John 3:16.
Knew it forwards, backwards, and sideways.
"For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believes in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

But I read that differently now that I am a mother.
"...gave His only begotten Son..."
Gave.
His.
Son.
Oh my.
The sacrifice.
The love.
The gift.

Thank you Jesus for loving me.
For saving me.
For being born in a lowly manger and dying on a rugged cross.
For answering my prayer of a child, and through this gift, offering me a better glimpse of the love you have for your children.

Oommph.