Mary Elizabeth* - A True Christmas Story

Written for my friend Mary Elizabeth 

by Patricia Spreng – December, 2014

Usually, she’d go once a year to see the cradle. And every now and then she’d go for the cross. Of course she believed. But that was church.

For quite a long time she’d found herself tripped up by the kind of life hurdles that hurt badly. The ones that leave you behind, break your dreams and mock you for ever having had them in the first place. But she was a fighter, always had been. Each time she’d get back up either by sheer stubbornness (which she had) or maybe because she believed.

Anyway, in the thick of it, she began to feel something pulling at her but couldn’t quite put a name to it. And, oddly, a new thought kept coming to mind…

Human hands had made the cradle

and human hands had made the cross.

One work was loving and the other wasn’t.

Each prepared to embrace the King differently.

In all those yearly sermons about God-sized holes, the part about asking Jesus into your heart never made any sense to her at all. Her holes were wounds that didn’t look anything like God. Besides, the heart is an organ and Jesus was too big for hers anyway.

Wrestling with it all, she went for a long walk to clear her head. She couldn’t believe how strongly the frustrations welled up inside her.  She hated ‘not getting it’

and they spilled over, loudly. How long must a woman cry?  She wondered for 10 sad and lonely miles on that dark December morning.

When he appeared on the sidewalk, it wasn’t like a Mary Poppins chalk drawing or anything. But he was there, with arms open wide, saying “Come to me.” This time, she could put a name to him. Jesus. She never did ask him into her heart. Instead, she just walked straight into his.  She fit perfectly… holes and all. He cradled her in a love and peace that she has never, ever known. The relief was palpable. Her loneliness began to subside and the waves of sadness were stilled in his comfort.

She stayed in that embrace for a long time… knowing that the heart of her life’s work had begun to shift … from self to serve.  In the truest sense of renewal, she found this amazing grace to be cleansing her soul.   She felt no other choice than to begin making her life a cradle for him.

Joy to the world, the Lord has come.  Let earth receive her King. Let every heart prepare him room.

*Her name has not been changed, but she has. How beautiful that her given name is Mary Elizabeth.  The reality of the transformation from “Mary” (in Hebrew meaning bitterness or rebelliousness) to “Elizabeth” (in Hebrew meaning ‘My God is abundance or My God is oath”) is not lost on us.

Trying On Advent - Christmas Eve

Celebrating the birth of Christ

O Come, Let Us Adore Him

Ever so tenderly,

hold this baby close to your heart.

Swaddle him in arms of warmth and love.

Cradled to your breast,

your face buried into his very being,

breathe deeply, peacefully

whispering sweet words

only he can hear.

He is the way, the truth and the life.

Never let him go.

Hearts beating so close together,

love and holiness seem inseparable.

Sing softly songs of praise

as Heaven's breath warms your embrace.

Amazingly,

a tiny hand curls around your finger,

gripping your hand and heart.

He is the way, the truth and the life.

He will never let you go.

Patricia Spreng

So, at the end of this Advent season, on the Eve of Christ's birth, I leave you with my photographs of the monarch's birth.  

Throughout this Advent series, my photographs and observations of the monarch butterfly have attempted to depict the waiting we experience in Advent.  I know it is has been quite a stretch to compare the waiting for the Son of God and the waiting for a monarch butterfly to hatch.  For me, it has been an exploration of sorts… a wait and see  kind of writing project.  Of course, I did not have the whole series thought out and ready for posting when I began.  So, in that regard, I have enjoyed the waiting to see how and if Advent could possibly correlate to the monarch waiting and watching.  I have loved the contemplative time, and the opportunity to sort through and compare what turned out to be 3 things… remembering the waiting for the Christ child, waiting in hope for Christ to transform me, and waiting in faith for His return.  The past, present and future.  It has led me through some interesting thought processes to say the least.   

The dictionary meaning of the word "monarch" is not lost on me,  "sovreign, esp. as king; a supreme, powerful being." The Greek word monarches means sole ruler.  Yes... soul ruler.  Throughout the waiting, He has proven himself to be faithful, present and powerful from the smallest seed, through the darkest night, to the birth of his promise in the fullness of time.  Immanuel, God with us.  Oh, come... let us adore Him.

  

 From my family to yours...  Merry Christmas and God bless you all.

May you know the nearness and peace of God this Christmas.

Patricia Spreng

So, on this Eve of Christ’s birth, I leave you with photographs of the monarch’s birth.

The Party was Last Night...

I imagine Mary without a book called “What to Expect When You’re Expecting.”  I imagine her not knowing what to expect.  All she really knew was his name and that he was the Son of God.   Well, yes … there’s  that.  But still, what was she to expect?

She must have made plans.  After all, she had nine months. She must have thought things through.  Even the Bible says she pondered them in her heart.  While most of us choose colors, themes and nursery furniture, I’m quite certain she never would have chosen ‘early mid-eastern stable’ for her nursery theme.  She must have had some expectations.  But I’m sure they were nothing like my expectations and disappointments of Christmas. 

Every year, I build and rebuild Christmas… trying to find meaning in the preparations… significance in the celebration…traditions for my children… satisfaction in perfection.   My friends will laughingly, lovingly tell you I am the furthest thing from a perfectionist.  Forget about breaking New Year’s resolutions.  I make and break Christmas resolutions every year:

    1.      I will buy tree lights, cards and ornaments right after Christmas on sale.
     2.    I will start my Christmas shopping in late August after the kids start school.
     3.    I will start my Christmas cards in September.
     4.    I will keep an organized, indestructible list of what and who I have bought for.
     5.    I will wrap all presents before Christmas Eve.
     6.    By next year I will have all the stories of our Advent Jesse Tree in order and memorized.
     7.    I will make it meaningful for all members of our family.

I admit… I never succeed.  Why do I feel responsible for making Christmas meaningful for everyone when God has already done it?  I think I am better at celebrating communion once a month than I am at Christmas, once a year.  At least in communion, I am alone…  communing with God.  He knows my heart.  He gets me.  I confess, I grieve, I contemplate, I repent, I remember and give thanks.  At Christmas, I am not alone.  I am surrounded by chaos, commercial bells and whistles, lists of children’s expectations and the all encompassing, self-imposed role of ‘Maker of the Merry Christmas.’  Um… no offense, but I’m pretty sure that job was already taken by Jesus.  And God only used one star to decorate the whole shebang.

Today, my heart stings in fresh disappointment.  In the middle of yet another road trip hauling kids to their expected destinations, I returned a call to my favorite neighbor.  I was so happy to hear her voice… an oasis.  Then, suddenly, in one of those Twilight Zone moments, I realized… breathlessly… that I had missed our neighborhood Christmas party… last night… at her house.  -- Oh. No. --  My mind raced.  My heart thumped… in the rhythm of ruined expectations.  My brain was jammed into “rewind” without first pressing “stop” … because why?  I was out over spending.  Distracted because I had left everything to the last minute.  And in the middle of Kohls of all places, I was called to a last minute music rehearsal for the Christmas Eve service… to which I rushed unprepared.  My mind was like a chain link fence of excuses rattling in my brain.  The tears came.

Bah.  Don’t be too impressed by my monarch Advent preparations.  Apparently, while there are beautiful and great truths I have found in raising monarchs, the sad truth is I am still not prepared to truly celebrate Christmas.  If I could spin my own cocoon right now, I would.   I would like to crawl inside and weep over ruined expectations and hurting my neighbor’s feelings. For now, my covers will have to do.  If Mary knew me, she would have expected that I would need her son to save me… from myself. 

Come Thou long expected Jesus.

Patricia Spreng

joining with Jennifer at Getting Down With Jesus