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Posts Tagged ‘#themiracleinmyarms’

The waiting of advent is akin to the waiting of an expectant mom. Then the time of waiting culminates in the birth of the Christ child.

I remember being pregnant at Christmas a couple of times. The awareness and connectedness that I felt to pregnant Mary caused me to ponder her experiences in my heart.

During each advent and Christmas they resurface once again.

I remember keenly the day I made the following statement to my grandmother, when I was maybe thirteen: “Gram, the Catholics really overemphasize Mary, don’t they?”

To which she replied, swiftly “and maybe the Protestants don’t emphasize her enough.”

Mary was chosen, by God, to be more than just the vessel through which his son would be born human. She was his choice. Not only was she to carry him in her womb, but she laboured him through birth, nursed him, cared for all of his needs. She was his momma.

It was her finger that he first grasped, her eyes that he first stared into, the sound of her voice that he first recognized, her touch that most comforted him.

In each of these firsts we see what heaven will be like, but it will be not just the finger, but the hand of Jesus held out to us, his eyes that we will look into, his voice of invitation and the comfort of his touch.

When a woman is expecting, especially for the first time, there is such curiosity of what is happening within her. Truly pregnancy is a mystery with great anticipation and expectation. Each stage, each movement is awe-inspiring.

Truly every pregnancy is miraculous.

At Christmas the miracle of the pregnancy of Mary is central to the narrative.

In the genealogy of Jesus, is recorded the most intimate of connections to Jesus,

“Joseph, the husband of Mary, 
and Mary was the mother of Jesus who is called the Messiah.

To be the mother of Jesus was a high calling, one that need great emphasis, as our Word emphasizes not just her name, but her role (and name) of mother.

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A couple of weeks ago, driving down a Vancouver street a vision of delicate pink hues caught my eye and took me twenty years into the past.

It was an early Pacific West Coast spring. The air warming the Earth, the air and the hearts of the locals.

Screen Shot 2017-03-12 at 9.38.18 AMAs I looked outside my window the sky was the brightest blue, and the street lined with so many pink blossoms that I felt I could almost smell their scent through the window.

The magnolia is the picture of delicate fragility, yet their petals are dense, slow to open, long lasting yet never long enough. Theirs is the scent of spring itself, floral and fresh and sweet.

In my arms lay a bundle of pink, wrapped in a white blanket.

Twenty years ago!

This copper-haired, pink bundle was a miraculous answer to prayers too numerous to count.

I sat on the hospital bed, feeling the awesome presence of the most creative being, who was revealing his nature to me, from the vision in my arms to the one blowing gently at the street.

“Then Esau looked up and saw the women and children. “Who are these with you?” he asked. Jacob answered, “They are the children God has graciously given your servant.” (Genesis 33:5)

The miracle in my arms … she was always mine … she was never mine.

It is hard to find the words to adequately express my love and hopes for you (imagine, me being without words).

I will use the words of the apostle Paul to do that:

“I have never stopped thanking God for you. I pray for you constantly, asking God, the glorious Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, to give you wisdom to see clearly and really understand who Christ is and all that he has done for you. I pray that your heart will be flooded with light so that you can see something of the future he has called you to share. I want you to realize that God has been made rich because we who are Christ’s have been given to him! I pray that you will understand how incredibly great his power is to help those who believe him.
Ephesians 1:16-19

As we celebrate twenty years of life and breath today, I want you to know that wherever you may go, whatever you may do, you are still in the creative and loving arms of your creator … who loves you more than anyone else.

Love,
Mom

 

 

 

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