It started in the bathtub on Christmas Eve. Three-month old Michael had always loved bath time. He loved being naked and splashing in the water. It had always been his very favorite time of day – until tonight. Tonight, as soon as his mother, Mary, lowered her son into the warm bath water, Michael started crying. And he didn’t stop.
This did not help Mary’s already frayed nerves. Christmas is always a crazy time of year for adults, and adding a new baby had increased the stress many times over for Mary. Then, when the pastor called and asked Bill if his family would pose as Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus for the Christmas Eve service, the stress hit new highs. Mary had never been much for getting up in front of people. She was more of a behind-the-scenes kind of person. And the idea of getting up in front of the whole congregation had her terrified. She only went along with it because Bill had agreed before asking her.
Getting up in front never bothered Bill, and he had forgotten how difficult it was for Mary when he had agreed without even asking her. “Sure, Pastor,” he had said, “we would be glad to do it!”
Now Mary hurried to get Michael through the bath as quickly as she could. As she began toweling him dry, she was quietly praying, “Please, God, don’t let Michael be coming down with something. Not tonight, please.”
Michael was not even dry when the phone rang. She lifted Michael, still crying, to her shoulder and went to answer the phone.
“Mary,” Bill said from the other end of the line, “I just wanted to let you know that I have to work late tonight. The boiler is malfunctioning, and I’m the only one available to work on it.”
“Michael!” Mary shouted into the phone. “You can’t work late! We’re Mary and Joseph at church tonight! Did you forget that you got us into that?”
“Mary, I didn’t forget. But the heat is down, and hospitals can’t tolerate that! We have to get it back on line and fast. They are trying to find some more guys to come and help, but right now I’m the only one available.”
Michael heard the tone in Mary’s voice, and began crying even louder.
“What’s wrong with Michael?” Bill asked his young wife.
“He’s upset that his dad is shirking his fatherly duties!” Mary answered angrily.
“Mary, you know I can’t leave until the heat is on again!” Bill reminded her.
“I know, but it just isn’t fair, Michael. You’re the one who got us into this, and now I’m stuck doing something I really don’t want to do. You know I hate getting up in front of people.”
“I know, Honey. I promise I will do everything possible to get there to be Joseph. Take my costume to the church. I know I won’t have time to come home. And, if I don’t make it, maybe Charlie or Dave could fill in for me.”
“Charlie and Dave are not substitute husbands, Michael. I know Joseph did not have anything to do with Mary’s pregnancy, but at least he was there when Mary needed him!”
“I’ll do everything I can,” Bill said. “I promise.”
But Bill was speaking into a dead phone line. Mary had hung up on him. “What can I do?” he said to himself as he put away his cell phone. “Hospitals have to have heat!” He took his biggest wrench and started banging on some overhead pipes in anger.
Meanwhile, Mary was seething with her own anger. But she knew she had to get herself calmed down, or she would never get Michael to stop crying. So she started singing Michael’s favorite lullaby, and walking the floor with him on her shoulder. She gently patted his bottom to reassure the little guy that everything was okay even though it really wasn’t.
She was on the third lullaby when Michael finally stopped crying. The singing was helping. It was calming them both. So, when she ran out of lullabies, Mary sang a few Christmas carols. Soon, Michael was asleep. She gently laid him on the bed, and being very careful not wake him, Mary started dressing Michael in his brand new Christmas outfit.
Mary was buttoning the last button on Michael’s new outfit, when she heard an unmistakable and unwelcome noise from her beautiful baby. She lifted his little bottom and sniffed.
“Oh, Michael! You stink!”
So, she started unbuttoning what she had just finished buttoning. As soon as she pulled his little pants down, Mary saw that the diaper had not done its job. Michael would not be wearing his Christmas outfit on Christmas.
Mary could feel the calm from the lullabies and carols quickly leaving. Stress and anger were seeping back into her soul. She tried to remind herself that you have to expect these types of things from babies. Michael did not do this on purpose. It helped a little to remember this, but not much.
After a second bath and another fresh outfit, Mary finally was able to lay Michael down in his crib where he drifted back into sleep. Finally she could concentrate on getting herself ready. When she sat down to do her hair, it did not cooperate either.
“Can anything else go wrong tonight?” she wondered out loud.
Such things should not be said out loud, because something else can always go wrong. And as Mary put on her new Christmas blouse, she realized it was missing a button. “This is a brand new blouse!” she snarled to herself. “Was it this way when I bought it?” She looked around the bedroom, hoping to spot the missing button. But no button was to be found that night. Mary gave up and changed into another outfit. Rage was boiling up in her, but she knew she had to contain it. All of this stuff was no one’s fault. A month from now this would probably be funny, but this was not a month from now. It was now, and it was not funny, not a bit!
Somehow Mary got herself, and Michael, and the costumes to church without anything else going wrong. And she even had ten minutes before the service was supposed to begin. When she walked in the door, she was relieved to see her husband standing there in his work clothes. She reminded herself that the work clothes really did not matter. He would be wearing a costume anyway.
Mary was still trying to reassure herself that maybe this would actually all work out, when Michael spit up – big time! He got her outfit and his own with one shot! This would be remembered as the Christmas with the stinky holy family. Bill was not showered and in his work clothes, and Mary and Michael both smelled of spit-up. She did not know who smelled worse, her, Bill or Michael.
It was the last straw. Mary started crying, and she stamped her feet in anger, right in front of the pastor and other people from the congregation. She was just about to really unload on Bill, when he took Michael in his arms and grabbed her hand and rushed them both into the men’s restroom. Fortunately, no one else was in there. And no one heard Mary start yelling through her tears, as Bill tried valiantly to wash away spit-up from both son and wife.
The Christmas Eve service had already begun before Mary was able to regain enough composure to stop crying and put on her costume. Michael had a very serious look on his face, but at least he was not crying, or spitting-up, or anything else. And Bill just looked worried and a bit haggard, probably not much different from the way Joseph looked as he struggled to find a place for his wife who was already in labor.
As they heard their cue and walked down the aisle toward the front of the church, Mary hoped no one would notice how bad they all smelled, or the red blotches from crying all over her face, or how they were far from being a holy family.
Mary tried, but could not force a smile onto her face. Looking placid was about the best she could muster. But so far, so good. And Michael was being quiet. They took their position in the front of the sanctuary, and held their pose for the reading of the Christmas story.
As the pastor started reading the story from Luke’s gospel, Mary could not help but think of Mary, the mother of Jesus. How terrifying it must have been for her to go into labor without even knowing where they were going to be able to stay. No hospital, no doctors or nurses, no bed, no pain killers. And riding a donkey for several days to get to Bethlehem, would have been horrible for her. It’s no wonder she went into labor after that hardship. And there they were, stuck in a strange town, not knowing anyone.
“I’m glad I had my mom there with me,” Mary thought to herself. “She was a big help. But Jesus’ mother didn’t have her mother, or any other family or friends, just Joseph.”
When Mary thought about her husband trying to help deliver a baby, she nearly laughed out loud. “He is such a klutz with those big, rough hands of his. And he wouldn’t have a clue what to do, but he would try. Because that’s the kind of man he is. But he wouldn’t even know how to boil water.”
Remembering how helpless Bill was in the kitchen, reminded Mary that Bill had not had time to eat supper, and he would be really hungry by now. And she hadn’t even asked him if the heat was on again at the hospital.
“I’m a terrible wife,” Mary thought to herself. “Bill is such a good and loving man. He really didn’t do anything wrong today. He was just being dependable and helpful, like always. The hospital needed him, and he stayed to help them. The church needed him, and he volunteered his family to portray Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. He was just trying to help people, and I just yelled at him in front of our pastor and half the congregation because of it. God, I’m such an awful wife! My life is so easy compared to what Mary, the mother of Jesus, had to go through. So my baby cried, and messed a diaper and his clothes, and then spit-up. I’m sure Jesus did all that stuff too. And we didn’t have to run for our lives to keep the king from killing our baby.”
“O, God, forgive me,” Mary prayed silently as the congregation began singing “Silent Night.” “I don’t deserve to be a wife and mother. I lose my temper too easily. I never thank you for all the good things I have. I’m always thinking of myself, making a big deal about putting on a costume and getting up in front of my friends at church on Christmas Eve. And I sure don’t deserve to have your Son come into our sinful world, and endure all the things he had to go through and then die a horrible death on the cross – just so my sins could be forgiven! God, I don’t deserve your love, and I don’t deserve your Son. But I need him, God. I really, really need him. If there is any chance for me to become a better wife and mother, a better person in general, then I am definitely going to need your Son with me – all the time. Please, God, let him be born in me.”
The words the congregation was singing began to seep into Mary’s consciousness. “Silent night, holy night, Son of God, love’s pure light; radiant beams from thy holy face with the dawn of redeeming grace, Jesus, Lord, at thy birth, Jesus, Lord, at thy birth.”
“This is it,” Mary thought to herself, “the dawn of redeeming grace – at the birth of Jesus. It’s a fresh start that God has given to the world – and to me. It’s a fresh start with the power to actually be different than we were before. God’s grace inspires and energizes us to extend the same kind of grace to those around us. This is the grace I need to extend to Bill and Michael, so I can be the kind of wife and mother that I have always dreamed of being.” And again, she prayed, “Let this be the dawning of your redeeming grace, God.”
Bill had avoided making eye contact with his wife the whole time they were in front of the congregation. But now he risked a glance over at her, and was relieved to see that the anger had left her face. She was not quite smiling, but he could see that there was a renewed openness to maybe smiling again sometime in the future. He might even get to see such a smile, if he could just remember to not volunteer his wife for anything else without first asking her.
Mary felt Bill’s eyes on her. She looked up, and their eyes met. They did not speak, or even whisper, but both heard the other say, “I love you, and I’m glad I’m married to you.” For the longest time, they just stood there looking into one another’s eyes, enjoying what they saw there. They could have been anywhere, because neither of them were aware any longer that they were standing in front of the entire congregation.
Then they both looked down at Michael, who had been so good all this time, and he had the biggest grin on his face that they had ever seen.
“That is not gas,” Bill whispered to Mary. She smiled back at him.
The young family stood there, held in God’s redeeming love, as the congregation finished singing “Silent Night.”
“Silent night, holy night, wondrous star, lend thy light; with the angels let us sing, Alleluia to our King; Christ the Savior is born, Christ the Savior is born.”
Questions for Meditation, Discussion or Preaching
Copyright 2020. Robert D. Ingram, 32746 Jourden Rd., Albany, Ohio 45710 (dr.bobingram@gmail.com). Used by permission.
