December 2008

Karsten and I first decorated the Christmas tree together when he was just six months old. I told him the meaning of each ornament as we hung it on the tree. Jonah’s whale. Abraham and Isaac’s ram. The lion and the lamb. The wisemen’s camel. The kitten in the bag…because God has a sense of humor. The angels who announced Christ’s birth. The star that led the magi to the baby king.

I know my boy did not understand what I was telling him, but it was good for my Christmas spirit. And it was good practice. Each Christmas since, I have told my son the meaning of the symbols and the story.

This year, Karsten is three-and-a-half years old and his little sister, Annika Noel, is six months. Again, I will prepare their hearts and mine while we decorate the tree. Karsten gets to help this year, and I will try not to rearrange his decorating…at least, not much.

Daniel and I long for our children to know Jesus, the Son of God. However, we don’t want them to just know Him as the baby in the manger, or even the storyteller and maker of miracles. We want them to know Him as the Redeemer and the God of the Universe.

Karsten is sorting out some of this on his own. We were talking about Jesus the other day as we drove through the snow and he said, “His name is Jesus but we can call him God.”

I love listening to Karsten and Daniel’s bedtime routine. PJs. Toothbrushing. A story, prayers, then snuggling. Often they read a couple of Bible stories from Karsten’s Bible. He has his favorites: Noah and the ark, David and Goliath, Jonah and the big fish, Mary and the angel. It is a special night if I get to hear Karsten’s prayer, even if it’s second hand. Sometimes the things he prays for take my breath away.

I pray more than ever these days. Many nights, before I climb into my own bed, I kneel beside my children’s beds and pray for them. I plead with God to make Himself known to them, to give me wisdom in how I reveal Christ in the way I live my life, to forgive me for all the ways I fall short, for teachable moments to make God real for them.

We are amazed at our children’s uniqueness. Karsten is our dramatist – creative, outgoing, funny, sensitive, observant, articulate. He is also a motorhead like his daddy, which I love. He enjoys burying himself in a role: monster, pirate, kitty… He loves to race and will wear himself out on the circuit of living room, dining room, hallway, bedroom, and round again. Karsten is also very inquisitive. Lately, his bedtime routine has included asking his daddy about how things work. Teachable moments.

Annika Noel is like sunshine to us. She has inspired a new degree of tenderness in her daddy, her big brother and me. We delight in her frequent laughter, feel contentment in her ready smiles, rush to comfort her tears, and cover her cheeks, hands and toes in kisses. This precocious little girl has even said her first word: “Mamamamama.” I had hoped it would be “Dada”, but Daniel is content with her ear-to-ear smile and exuberant wiggles when she sees him and her eagerness to snuggle.

As I watch my children with Daniel, I see tangible expressions of God’s love. They will know grace and guidance, love and wisdom first from their daddy (and me), then someday – by the grace of God – from God Himself. While there is only one incarnate Son of God, we can be reflections of Christ.

That is the gift I want to give my children this Christmas. A reflection of Christ that is more vivid than the ornaments, more brilliant than the lights, more lasting than the gifts under the tree. For His glory and for their good.

December 2007

"Her neighbors and relatives heard that the Lord had shown her great mercy, and they shared her joy."  -Luke 1:58

This has been a year of wonder and promises fulfilled. A husband restored, a little boy flourishing, a business blessed, and a baby anticipated. It has been a very full year.

Each Advent as I read the Christmas story, there is usually someone with whom I feel a certain kinship, someone whose experience of anticipation and nativity has connection to my own life in this season of Christmas. Elizabeth and Zechariah were given a promise - an impossible promise. In their old age - and her barrenness - they were going to have a child. Zechariah's doubt, even in the face of an angel herald, was "rewarded" with the gift of silence. What better way  to contemplate the promise of God?

Our gifts this year have seemed no less miraculous.

I have watched in wonder as my husband, damaged so badly in a car-bike collision just over a year ago, has healed, returned to work, gotten back on his bike, won races, scooped up his son, and looked down into my eyes and held me close.

We have watched Karsten turn two, learn to run and dance, experience camping for the first time, and make new friends. We have listened to him speak with his amazing vocabulary, heard him singing, recite his favorite books, and make up stories of his own.

I have been overwhelmed with interesting work and enjoyable clients, so much so that Karsten's naptime became office hours for much of this fall. Thank God for my job that allows me to multitask from home.

And we too have been given a child. We found out in October that Karsten will have a little sibling come summer. Her name is Annika Noel, which means "full of grace" and "song of Christ's birth", words which we claim in anticipation.

What must Zechariah have thought and felt as he watched his wife grow over those amazing nine months? How hard it must have been to be silent in his joy and amazement!

I wonder whether he penned any psalms of praise. He certainly sang one when his boy was born. And no only that, but his hymn was prophetic of the coming Messiah and role his son would play in our rescue.

So what does the future hold for Annika? For Karsten? For each of us? I know that God does not promise to prevent hardship; the last two years are evidence of that. But He has promised that He has "plans to give us hope and a future" (Jeremiah 29:11).  We have seen God transform pain and fear and despair into endurance and hope and trust. We have lived in the center of God's mercy and know that He can and will see us through.

Gabriel's words hold true for us too: "Do no be afraid, Zechariah; your prayer has been heard." (Luke 1:13) He is listening. He is present. He is Immanuel, "God with us."

Merry Christmas.