This Christmas, thanks to Pandora, I was introduced to "Joseph's Lullaby" by Mercy Me (you may know them from their hit "I Can Only Imagine"). While there are other Christmas songs sung from the perspective of our Savior's earthly parents, this one struck me differently than others in the past.
In today's hustle and bustle of the "holiday season" (the surge of political correctness frustrates me more than I can tell you), it's easy to overlook the baby Jesus, let alone his parents. However this year, for the first time ever I started to grieve for Mary and Joseph. Maybe it's because the majority of my friends are currently "with child," or because my insides have been in knots wanting a child of my own, or because I'm nearly thirty and actually starting to feel like a grown-up, I don't know, but whatever it is, it's allowed me to ponder the reality of parenting the Son of God.
My best friend, Page, and I have literally spent HOURS discussing the inevitability of screwing up our future offspring. The prospect of how severely I will mess up my children is often the thing that keeps me childless. This season, though, thanks to the aforementioned song, I've thought about Jesus' parents, specifically Mary. In all reality, she was an unwed, teen mom with a reputation charged with raising mankind's Savior. How she got through nine--actually ten--months (thanks for the reminder, Becky)without being a hysterical mess, is beyond me. Yet, she embraced this "gift" from God with remarkable strength. Let me be clear that I believe ALL children are gifts, and yet, if I were Mary (or Joseph), it would be difficult to look past the fact that this gift, this child, my son, was being born to die. The implications of this gift would be impossible to overlook.
As I approach my 29th Christmas (remember that I had one Christmas before I turned 1!), I'm thankful not only for my Savior's birth, but also for his parents. After all, if Mary and Joseph hadn't been who they were, Jesus wouldn't have been who he was and is. And while I miss the Christmases of my childhood, I am equally as grateful to have these Christmases as an adult because the older I get the more able I am to "treasure all of these things and ponder them" in my heart.