Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house, no one was home but me and my baby…
And it was glorious.
Favorite Christmas memories linger in our minds in order to be shared. Mine contains no material gift or magnificent event. It comes from my adult life and not from my magical childhood holidays. One could even argue that it bores those listening to it. But I will share it anyway.
Holiday Visits
Earlier in our marriage, my husband and I lived out of state, away from our parents and siblings. We visited our families in Iowa during the holidays. This particular Christmas we toted along our first child, our 4 month old son.
These holiday visits brought a mix of joy and anxiety for me. I loved spending time with family that I didn’t get to see very often, but I felt surrounded by people 24/7. Always someone talking, someone pushing or pulling, someone placing expectations. Because we stayed with my parents or my husband’s parents, I had no place to go to take a breather away from it all, to find some moments by myself to recharge my batteries.
Except the moment I am about to share, the one that became my favorite Christmas memory.
Gloriously Uneventful Memory
I don’t remember the details of the situation. Maybe my baby had fallen asleep and I didn’t want to wake him. Maybe he or I didn’t feel the best. I am not sure. But while we usually followed the family and joined their activities, on this night my baby and I stayed put. My husband was not present (probably hunting), and all other extended family left my parents’ house for some kind of activity. This left me and my son alone, and made for a wonderful memory.
My mom usually had some kind of music CDs playing on any given, normal day. But at Christmas time her music played even more consistently. So of course when everyone left and the glorious lack of conversation enveloped, music also played softly in the background. I sat in a recliner with my baby boy sleeping on my lap, soaking in both the silence and the Christmas music.
A variety of joys flood my being and my moment. Of course I revel in the quiet and feel like I can breathe easily again. Battery recharge is taking place. I look down at my baby son and feel so grateful for this gift of motherhood. I relish in the remission of my mother’s cancer, and feel so thankful. As a young mom, I relate to Mary who also looked down upon her baby boy so many years before, a boy she knew to be both her son and God’s son, and I could feel her mixture of intense love and fear. I am thankful for the gift of her Son, the One that grew into our example and died for our eternal life.
A Song Makes the Moment
A song plays in the background of this joy filled moment, one I am unfamiliar with, but the tune catches my attention. The beauty of the notes makes me want to move a little, to recognize both the joy in my life and the joy in the tune. So I stand and rock my baby in my arms, enjoying both God’s blessings and a song I am sure my mother has enjoyed many times. I rock until my arms ache with the weight of my baby, and until my heart couldn’t possibly feel more full.
And that is my favorite Christmas memory. Nothing impressive or glamorous, more of a feeling than an event. That glorious moment took place 18 years ago, and I can still picture the Christmas tree, the lighting in the room, the cute little sleeper my baby wore, and of course the song.
I later learned that song is titled Emmanuel, God With Us, sung by Point of Grace. After my mom died, I made a point of taking her CD home with me. Now “Emmanuel” is my Christmas song. You know, the one song that you have to hear every Christmas season, the one that kind of sums up all of your Christmases, the one that holds your favorite Christmas memory?
Yep, for me that is Emmanuel, God With Us. It is special to me. It reminds me of my baby boy, of my mom, of the house I grew up in, of my moment of renewal and joy, and of baby Jesus.
Ahhh, Christmas memories. May they fill us, change us, and inspire us to share them.
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