I’m six or so, big enough for childlike faith and small enough to still believe in the wonder of Christmas. My brother and I giggle as we dress up for our yearly tradition. I am Mary and he is Joseph.
We put on bathrobes that belong to our parents–so long they drag the carpet behind us. We cover our heads with bath towels. The color doesn’t match and terry cloth didn’t exist in Bethlehem but we don’t know or notice.
I swoop up a doll in my arms—an impromptu baby Jesus. We walk into the living room where parents and grandparents expectantly wait. My dad holds a Bible open to the second chapter of Luke.
So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David.
He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child.While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son.
She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn.
Luke 2:4-7 NIV
A holy hush falls over the room. A candle flickers. My brother and I act out the story as my father reads on, unfolding eternity word by word. Eternity that came to sleep in a manger and die on a cross.
In those moments, our home becomes holy. Bathrobes, towels, clothe us in the divine. Christmas truly comes and nothing is the same.
It isn’t make-believe—it’s transformation.
I’m grown now and no longer dress up to read the Christmas story. But the lesson I learned from those days stays with me. Christ has the power to change. And always, especially at Christmas, things are not as they appear in the Kingdom.
This is truest of all when we give.
The cost of two cups of coffee becomes a Village of Hope for women in Africa through the Mocha Club.
A gift to Rapha House becomes a divine key that sets girls free from sex slavery.
A sponsorship of a child through Compassion International becomes a pathway to a better future.
Water into wine, a few loaves and fish into a feast, a tiny baby in a manger Savior of this great big world. Jesus has always been a multiplier, transformer, changer, who takes what little we have to offer and makes it more than enough.
This happens not when we are perfect, not when we have much to give, but when we—who are all grown up now—open our hearts once again to childlike faith and the wonder of Christmas.
When we do, the One who came for us then comes to us again. And miraculously, through us, makes His way to the hearts of others who need Him too.
This is still, always, the miracle of Christmas.
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Holley. This post makes me ache. It’s what j want got my children, to act out, to live out this story. It’s such a precious thing to imagine.
Oh this brought back memories of the nativity pageants we put on for my parents. Only with two sisters, there was much clamoring to be Mary. Somehow I always got relegated to being Joseph. Or a shepherd.
Beautiful post. There is indeed the miracle of Christmas.
“This happens not when we are perfect, not when we have much to give, but when we—who are all grown up now—open our hearts once again to childlike faith and the wonder of Christmas.”
I loved the entire post, but that particular sentence socked me in the gut. You’ve articulated so well here what Christmas magic is all about. Thank you.
So good. I think I’m adopting the phrase “live child-like faith, give like an adult.” Thanks, Holley.
Just a note to tell you the Compassion International site link is incorrect. The blog post goes to compassion.org which is a list of quotes. You are looking for http://www.compassion.com
Peace to all.
Thank you for the correction, M. I finished this post in the emergency room with my Grandpa so my mind was not quite focused.
And thanks to the rest of your for your kind comments! I’m so honored to be writing here…
And then I have a typo in my comment. Ha! I think I should step away from the keyboard now. Thanks for your grace…whew, how I need it!