O come, let us adore Him.

Not exactly the luxury labor suite at that Medical Center, but it would do.

    Oh. Oh my Lord. Oh my Baby Lord. I think I just started to understand Christmas two minutes ago while listening to a country pop diva belt out “O Come All Ye Faithful”. She was pitchy and a little too liberal with the extra riffs, but back to the point, back to the point. I don’t know all the words to the song so I latched onto one line and sang it for dear life: “O come, let us adore Him. O come, let us adore Him”.  By the end of the song (or that line, 67 times repeated) I was getting all teary eyed and lost in vivid memories of the night my boy was born.

Listening to these words as a parent, I hear them more soulful than before. The friends and family trickling into the room, everyone’s air pinched at the sight of the fresh person just arrived. O come, let us adore him. And they do, gathered around a small soul, letting their breath out in a slow, careful wave that sounds a lot like “Ohhhh. Wowwwwww” as they look upon him.

This kid: NOT Jesus Christ, but still pretty magical to me.
This kid: NOT Jesus Christ, but still pretty magical to me.

Mistake nothing, my kid is no Messiah. He’s all boogers and poots, dirt and excessive energy like the rest of us, but he was new to the world on a very quiet night once. And if you could wrap all the swirling, flashing emotions of those minutes into a perfect sentiment it would be silent awe, overwhelmed and overcome, being still in amazement. Just recently visiting my sister and brand new nephew, came bearing gifts of cute onesie and fresh coffee, I felt that same hushed bewilderment. You weren’t here and now you are.

   And so I can say I get it and I can’t possibly get it all at the same time. If my one kid and his cousins had such a profound impact on his small corner of Tennessee when they arrived can we even wrap our heads around what it meant when Jesus showed up to this place. In today’s world of power and money and status and lawsuits, of wars and bullying and politics and greed, can we grasp that one quiet night a single baby was born in a barn and the whole world paused in peace? Silent awe. Overwhelmed & overcome. Still in amazement.

This Christmas I am celebrating with my mind blown at what an amazing effect one kid can have.

I am settling with an understatement when  I add “Oh my Lord, babies are the best!”

Merry Christmas

and Happy Holidays

and Glorious Gluttonous Family Dinner to you, lovelies!


14 thoughts on “O come, let us adore Him.

  1. My faith is ever changing, so even when I wonder at the facts . . . I believe in the beauty and the love, and am breathtaken by such soulful, joyous reflections. Merry Christmas! Thank you for shining your light in ways that leave me feeling so much hope and possibility for what’s yet to come.

  2. There is nothing like holding a baby in your arms. They’re so vulnerable and reliant on you, and yet you can’t help but think that you’re holding potential – who and what they will become in the future.

    I just love the song “Mary Did You Know’ at Christmastime. The ultimate potential in her arms.

  3. This is lovely more often than not we end up singing songs without thinking about what we are saying. Sometimes it’s good concentrating on the meaning lyrics give to us and applying them to our lives! 🙂

  4. im a little late to the start line on commenting on this, but I KNOW. i dont have kids of my own (praise beeeee, too soon for that 🙂 ) but when I see my goddaughters enjoying it, thats where the fun is for me, right there.

    And also in the mulled wine. x

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