We were on our daily walk to the library. We walked slowly down the street, me pushing a stroller with my daughter’s baby doll in it, simultaneously wearing my infant son and calling after my daughter to hold my hand before she crossed the street.  I sometimes wonder what passerby’s think when they see me.  Perhaps an older woman smiles from behind her steering wheel reminiscing about how her grown children were once small.  Maybe a busy man thinks to himself, “That lady needs a real job.” Perhaps a teenage girl thinks that if she ever has kids she won’t go out of the house without doing her hair first.  Just speculation, but I am curious sometimes.

As I sat in a chair designed for a 2-year-old and helped my daughter with a puzzle, I overheard an interesting conversation between two librarians.  The two women in their mid twenties were talking about an upcoming wedding and how the bride’s married sister will be pregnant for the wedding.  They talked about how inconsiderate it was of the sister to get pregnant before the wedding and how the bride was furious with her.  Um, I’m sorry, I didn’t know this was a huge faux pas…anyone else with me on this one?  At first I thought I must have heard wrong, but as they continued to talk about the rudeness of the timing of the pregnancy and wonder who would take care of the baby if it came before the wedding, I realized they were serious.  To top it all, the mother-of-the-bride (who also worked at the library) came in and gushed about how upset she was about the whole ordeal.

Granted, I was eavesdropping on a very loud conversation, but since when have precious, innocent babies become simply nuisances that throw off the aesthetics of our wedding pictures?  Seriously, do we as a culture place so much value on a wedding that we forget that children are one of the greatest blessings of a marriage?  Are brides so self-centered these days that their joy is dampened by someone who might steal the limelight?

The whole conversation both embarrassed and angered me. Once again it reminded me that I live in a culture that sees my babies as inconvenient and burdensome.   This is nothing new.  Even Jesus’ disciples pushed the children away.  But Jesus knew better.  He shocked the crowd by saying that they must become like the little ones to enter His kingdom.  He said that when you serve the least of these, you serve Him.  He said that the least is the greatest.  His wisdom seems foolish to the culture of yesterday and today.

As we walked home with a dozen picture books slowing us down, I continued to think about my role as a mother amidst a discouraging culture of self-centeredness.  A culture that says I can do better than daily laying down my life for others.  I may not work in a highly esteemed, well-paying job, and wear expensive clothes.  I may not be well-traveled or have extra letters by my name.  But everyday, I look in the eyes of my babies and see Jesus.  Everyday I have two personal tutors to show me how I must be childlike in my faith.  No matter how my role as a mother is viewed by others, when I serve my children, I serve Jesus, and that is the greatest thing I will ever do.

After a bad week consisting of the stomach flu, sleep deprivation, and dropping my cell phone in the toilet, I found myself at the height of being a grumpy and impatient mama.  Disgust filled my heart as I saw my own ugliness beginning to surface.  ”Who have I become?” The question rang hollow as I realized – I’ve always been this person, it just took this physical, emotional and mental testing to draw this “ugly me” to the surface.

Ugliness lives in us all.  Some of us hide it well, deep down.  Some of us wear it on our sleeve with arrogance.  But either way, hardship brings it to the surface and forces us to deal with our ugliness.

Being a mommy stretches me and takes me to a place that no other experience has ever come close to equaling.  Being a mama is daily making me a more beautiful person.  Not outwardly, as I have my share of stretch marks, baby weight and “mom hair.” But inwardly I have never learned or loved so much.  My 25lb, 20 month old daughter teaches me more each day about human nature, grace, and love than anyone else.

Our culture avoids pain, inconvenience and hardship to its own detriment.  What are we missing out on by religiously avoiding uncomfortable experiences?  Are we so scared of seeing our limits that we cautiously avoid anything that might test us?  Joy and pain go hand in hand.  Refinement follows struggle.  Growth comes after pruning.

Let us embrace the situations that reveal our ugliness and be grateful for the chance to be different from the person we were yesterday.

As we prepare to celebrate the coming of our Lord as a little baby, I am also celebrating the recent arrival of our second child.  Even though we don’t know what day Jesus was really born, we like the predictability of naming His birthday and celebrating it on the same day year after year.   I’m sure Mary would have been thrilled to know the day and hour her blessed child would arrive, just like every expectant mother on earth.

When it comes to pregnancy, our culture is obsessed with due dates.  Invariably if you’ve been pregnant, one of the first questions people ask is “When are you due?”  I’ve found that people aren’t quite satisfied with a general answer such as “In the fall” or “Around the holidays” or even “Late November.”  We want to know the precise day.  As our little bundle came four weeks past my initial “due date,” I can’t help but chuckle that baby Jesus arrives on the “due date” we’ve created for Him every single year without deviation.

Most women are induced if their baby refuses to make an appearance by week 42, if not earlier.  After passing my due date and hitting the 42 week mark with no signs of labor, I wrestled with the reality of my utter lack of control in the situation.  It turns out we were off in our due date (more like due guess) by two weeks and didn’t figure it out until that point.  Like an unwanted time travel experience, I found myself once again at 40 weeks with another two to go.

The day before I went into labor, I went through a turning point in my pregnancy experience.  I finally stopped worrying about when my child would come. I stopped feeling sorry for myself that I had to wait “so long.”  I stopped thinking of ways I could coerce ”naturally induce” our baby into the world.  I embraced my lack of control.

If we let go of our expectations and embrace the sacredness of the holy unknown, that is when we find joy.  Stress, anxiety, and inner turmoil arise from our futile attempts to control what we shouldn’t try to hold in our hands.  We like to play god and when we feel the limits of our power, we panic.

As we celebrate Jesus’ birth tomorrow, I’m reminded that Mary was not the only person eagerly awaiting His arrival.   A whole nation waited on the promise of His coming.  They could not predict or control His arrival.  They could only wait and trust in the Lord’s timing for their savior baby to come, saying in their hearts, “Come thou long-expected Jesus.”

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s Strength and Consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear Desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

Born Thy people to deliver,
Born a child and yet a King,
Born to reign in us forever,
Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.
By Thine own eternal Spirit
Rule in all our hearts alone;
By Thine all sufficient merit,
Raise us to Thy glorious throne.