Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart. (Luke 2:19)
to have feelings of awe or admiration,
I wonder what kind of boy He will be.
Will He enjoy running and climbing trees?
I wonder what will be His favorite toy
or game He will play with other boys.
I wonder what plans God has in store
to accomplish His purpose with this little boy.
Will He be loved and accepted by men?
Even as a child, will they know who He is?
Will He be a king, mighty to save?
Will He be a prophet, pointing the way?
To the task, years of kings and prophets weren’t equal.
So, what will it take to save His people?
I wonder holding Him in my arms,
will I be able to keep Him from harm?
It’s what parents hope in a world of strife
but, Lord I trust You to guard His life.
I have been so intrigued by Mary this Christmas season. Maybe it’s because Baby Girl is almost 4 months old, and I guess I’m a little more reflective this year than I was when Squiggle was an infant during the holidays. I’ve really been trying to identify with Mary as a mother and not just as the religious icon she’s come to be today. The angel’s message about the child she would carry must have been both awe-inspiring and overwhelming all at once. I’m sure she was like all mothers, full of hopes and dreams for her little bundle of joy.
It’s a huge stretch of the imagination to consider Jesus as a boy, playing with friends, running and jumping, and giving hugs like my boys do. The Bible doesn’t tell us much about His childhood, and I suppose we are so conditioned to think about Him as the teacher and healer revealed in the New Testament that we forget He actually did grow up. He learned to crawl and walk and talk like all babies do. I’m sure Mary looked at him with the same eyes full of wonder and heart overflowing with love that I use when I see my children. What did she think of the angel’s declaration that He would be God’s Son and that His kingdom would have no end? How did she imagine it would come to pass as the years went by? Did she share the experience with Him? Did she forget about it? Did she have an inkling of what it meant? I’m sure she cringed the same way I do at the thought of them every being hurt or alone or broken.
And yet, He was hurt and left alone and broken. No doubt the scene she saw standing at the foot of the cross as she watched her beloved dying was far from her wildest ponderings on the night of His birth. I can hardly bear to even think of the sorrow she must have born–there to the end as He made such a great sacrifice for her and all mankind. We’re not told, but I hope she saw Him that Sunday morning three days later. I hope she touched Him and kissed Him again. I hope she saw the fruition of God’s blessing on her womb. I’m certain she sees Him now–her son and Savior.