Descending into Christmas

Today begins our 4th week of Advent and the descent into Christmas, which leads me to remember the birth of my first son… who is now 13 years old.

Sawyer’s birth recalls in me wonder and awe, sure, but I also remember the doubt and fear in not feeling prepared. I didn’t doubt whether I could physically provide, I knew I would have worked any job and as many jobs in order to make sure my family had what was needed. This was a different kind of doubt than that. The swirling emotions were at their highest in the first month, as I watched my little boy simply sleep and depend on Sarah for being fed.

What does he need from me? What am I supposed to do now?

You see, I had a step-dad for a portion of my childhood and he attempted to teach me machoism. Puff up the chest and demand with a loud voice, inject a stern threat of consequences so as to provide a proper dose of fear. At age 6 he attempted to teach me how to shoot guns and to hunt. Big story for another time, but it was an ugly mess to be sure. But it’s in all of this that I think of Sawyer in that first month of his life.

I had to learn how to descend into his infancy. He would sleep. eat. poop. And then repeat. Quite obvious, I know. So I had to learn to simply hold him, gaze into his eyes, and patiently listen to his infancy. I remember sitting in the room while he slept next to me, just to let him know that I was there. I so badly wanted him to know that I was there.

Sawyer’s infancy taught me the art of humility. Sawyer’s infancy was a catalyst for my maturity.

Which guides me to the Christmas story. The Christ child’s arrival is an invitation for you and me to show up. To see life in the miniature moments.

We are being invited to descend into Christmas and nurture the infancy of eternity.

And this is incredibly countercultural, as we are often handed the model of demanding the microphone and commanding people to get in line or get out of the way. But the infant doesn’t respond to the inflamed ego.

Christmas is the paradox of cosmic power in the care of the smallest child.

At Christmas, we are invited to quietly kneel down, gently scoop up, and then listen to the littleness resting on our heart.