We’ve whitewashed everything about this scene: beatific Mary gazing serenely at a cleaned up baby cozy in a cleaned up manger towered over by Joseph and surrounded by adoring shepherds and freshly groomed, sweet smelling animals.
It was nothing like that.
Birth is pain and sweat and effort.
And messy. So, so messy.
I like to think more clearly about what that night was like. It helps my heart to know that even while God was being birthed as a man into the world He created, He didn’t hide the hard.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2018/12/24/christmas-drama/
Here in the last days before Christmas, the darkest days of the year, my grieving heart longs for light.
In some ways the busy-ness of the holiday season pushes the pain of missing my son to the background–a mind can only entertain so many ideas at one time.
But the activity and constant barrage of demands and conversations exhausts me and makes me more vulnerable to the moments when grief rolls full force over my soul like an ocean wave.
I am more sensitive to the chasm between me and those who have not buried a child.
Read the rest here: https://thelifeididntchoose.com/2015/12/19/countdown-to-christmas/