Tomorrow is my daughter’s 19th birthday. Yes, 19 years ago, this Mary labored in the hospital with pain and worry and fretting and that anticipatory ache that accompanies new motherhood. She hollered her way into my arms a few hours shy of being my own baby in a manger, and she captured my heart in that moment.
Yet will I see?
On Sunday we’ll celebrate Jesus’ birth, which is so astounding I can’t wrap my mind around it. The God who scatters stars, speaks life, roams the universe actively chose to incarnate this sin stained world. Hard to fathom. Hard to bring into my heart as reality. That baby in a manger is everything to me.
Yet will I see?
Next week on the 29th Patrick and I will celebrate 21 years of marriage. Ups. Downs. All arounds. Moves from Washington to Texas to France to Texas. Three amazing children. His rakish George Clooney looks and avid cheerleading. He is so much of my stability.
Yet will I see?
I’ll have all three kids under this roof for a blessed month until Sophie goes back to school. We will sleep in, eat great food, go on adventures, watch movies. We’ll celebrate togetherness and comfortable, peaceful relationships. It’s such a gift, this dear family.
Yet will I see?
God’s been whispering to me lately, wooing really. He’s reminding me how fleeting this life is, how dynamic and changing it is. How it charges ever forward, seldom letting us pause and consider. Yet He calls us all to see. To pause. To rest. To ponder. To live joyfully in the moment. To see.
Dear Jesus, help me to slow down and see. Help me to relish this moment, right now. Enable me to be alive in this moment, aware of each relationship, each tenor of voice, every request whether verbal or nonverbal. I want to see. I want to live. I don’t want to let life pass by without acknowledging its wonder. Amen.
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