Christmas Eve

Over the past three and a half weeks, I have given a lot of thought to the babies and their progress, their care, those entrusted with their safety and well-being.

And I can't help but think of our Savior, born so long ago.

This past weekend, as I wrapped Tyler and Kenzie in their soft blankets, snuggled them down in their nice bed in their warm room, with a light glowing and soft music playing, I was reminded of another infant. That baby was wrapped in swaddling clothes and laid in a manger -- in a barn, with animals close by and no sterile environment, no humidifier, no thermostat. His only night light was the stars, and he certainly had no Bach or Beethoven (to enhance his synaptic connections and make him smarter). No bed was lovingly selected just for him, just a clean feed trough.

We worried about leaving our babies in the hospital, with their monitors, fancy eqipment, and a nurse whose only job for that twelve-hour period was to look after our two. God sent his Son to a young girl and her betrothed, knowing that He would be born in a city far from their home. Did Jesus have a Mimi there to help Mary as she adjusted to life as a mom? Someone to share the tricks of motherhood? Another set of hands for that moment when Mom and Dad were exhausted?

Think about it. Mary either had to bring everything with her, knowing that the baby would likely be born during the trip, or she had to depend on the ladies of Bethlehem to help her round up what she needed. It's not like she could send Joseph on a supply run to Target. How many teenage girls do I know who could pull off this kind of feat? None come to mind. Mary and Joseph had a huge burden on their young shoulders.

And yet, God sent Jesus anyway. He sent Him, knowing that He would suffer, that He would have to die to redeem us.

He didn't have to come. But He did. And I am forever grateful.

I'm with Makenzie -- Praise Jesus!