Babies

Sometimes it baffles me that there is still so much to-do about a baby born a couple thousand years ago.  We get all excited and sometimes lost and overwhelmed in the preparations for this holiday, but when it comes down to it - to this moment - there is an air of anticipation.


I grew up going to church and this day, this Christmas Eve day, is my most favorite of church-going holidays.  Waking up on Christmas Eve day means the promise of baked treats wafting from the kitchen.  It means getting  my hands dirty doing what I love: helping prepare the traditional Swedish smorgasbord food we eat every year.  In the evening we go to church, where we finally still ourselves; we sing the traditional carols under and amid dim white lights.  Quietly we leave, back into the world for the brief time it takes to retrieve ourselves and gather 'round Mom and Dad's fancily-laid table, steam rising in front of everyone's plate.  After our taste buds have remembered that once, long ago, they hailed from Sweden, the anticipation yet lingers.


I suppose as a child, this anticipation may have centered on the presents under the tree, the promise of tomorrow's gifts for me.  As an adult, I anticipate the Christmas morning present-opening tradition in the Johnson household as a culmination of the months of deciding on the precisely perfect present for each beloved person.  There is still another cause of anticipation, however.  It is the gift of a little baby's birth that we celebrate.  Whether it's Jesus' birth, or your birth, the birth of your child or a stranger's, each baby is a promise of a new and ever-unfolding gift.  This is the miracle that I celebrate tonight: the mystery of each person's contribution to our world.  This is why I love my work.