I have kissed the faces of each of my sweet daughters moments after they were born. Looking in their sweet face and knowing they would be my responsibility for at least the next 18 years is daunting to think of at the moment, much less worrying about raising an individual, a little person who might make a difference in this world.
I think to Mary, the mother of Christ. She knew his mission before He was born, and took on the responsibility of raising, loving, and nurturing our Savior. What a task she undertook, to know that she would live out my worst fear. Watching my child die and suffer before I die.
The tears of joy must have quietly rolled down her face that night, as she looked into the face of the one who would save the world. Those tears perhaps were spotted with the concern and worry of what her son would face, being the literal Son of God, and the only Savior, knowing he would have to die.
How blessed we are to have the opportunity to not only celebrate the birth of Jesus, but the wonderful, hand picked woman, who was noble enough to carry within her womb, our salvation. I thank her for her selfless act.
Merry Christmas, mother Mary. Thank you for your gift.
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