A Christmas Story

       

            I first saw her that afternoon after she had been in labor for close to eight hours. It was Christmas Eve, and I was on call for another doctor and therefore had not met her before, so between contractions, I introduced myself.  She was about halfway there, and it was obvious from her countenance why it was called labor.  Sweat was beginning to roll off her brow, and fear, expectation, and pain intermittently contorted her young face.  This only further supported my contention that women are the stronger sex, for I am sure that if men had babies, we would all have one child families.

            She continued to progress, each contraction harder than the previous. Her breathing became panting, and those little beads of sweat became a drenching shower of effort.  I would periodically pop in and out to check her progress- noting each time her quiet determination and her resolute understanding that this was all for a greater purpose.  It came time for the delivery, and she reached the state of labor some label “transition”;  others call it “possession.”.  This is the checkpoint where fatigue and pain overrule decorum, and I assure moms that I will repeat nothing that is said during this time.  She pushed heroically and delivered a beautiful baby girl with relatively little effort.

            I first noticed the problem with the eyes.  They were more widely spaced than normal, and then I saw the clubfoot. Upon further examination, it became obvious that this beautiful baby girl had Down’s syndrome.  As I carried this newly swaddled baby to her awaiting mother, I struggled with how to tell her my suspicions.  I said a quick prayer and decided to be forthright.  As I laid the infant on Ally’s belly, I gently touched her on the shoulder and told her I thought the baby had Down’s, and I showed her the clubfoot.  She paused for what seemed like an eternity, her eyes never leaving her baby, and said,   “Isn’t God great!”  This response jolted me as it was not exactly what I had expected. Then she continued, “Isn’t God great,” she repeated.  “He knew to send this baby to someone who would love her just as she is.”  And at that, she brought her left arm out from under the bedsheets, and I noticed for the first time her own misshapen arm and hand. Yes, God is good and wise.

            So just as that birth was a new and unexpected beginning for that family-so the birth of a baby boy in a far off country to young mother in a shabby horse stall was a new beginning for all of us.  In the first breath of that newborn, the world changed.  It was a new beginning.

            We all remember new beginnings- first times.  A first kiss, a first bike, a first love.  On my first day of high school, I was the new kid. I had just moved to a new town and was marked by “high water” pants and “Coke bottle bottom” glasses.  I hid out for three weeks, spending between class time avoiding bullies and wedgies. At my first prom, I had to stand on blocks for the dance picture because my date was five inches taller than me. 

            I was transformed by the birth of my first child.  I was the daddy and not the doctor, and what a difference that made!  I understood not just the mechanics of birth but the miracle of birth.  It was surely God’s way of saying he thinks the world should continue.  From that moment on, not only was my wallet a lot lighter, but also my heart, because that little girl stole a piece of it.

            That birth 2000 years ago also reminds me of the sheer miraculous nature of life. When you think that two little cells, each smaller than the head of a pin, come together to fuse, grow, and change perfectly to form a unique individual- no two alike- the magnitude of such a miracle is immense.  We take it for granted.  The birth of a baby is such an amazing occurrence- in an instant, it goes from being totally dependent to breathing on its own,  circulating blood on its own, interacting on it’s on-it is truly miraculous in a sense.                

      The birth of Jesus is miraculous not only for the physical commonality that we all share but for the miracle that it created in all our lives.  The miracle of salvation.   The Greek word for salvation used in the New Testament is “Sozo,” and it can also be translated as healing.  When a child is born, there is unbridled hope.  When Jesus went about his ministry, whether it was preaching, teaching, or healing- there was always the common denominator- and that was hope.

            Christmas is that seed God has planted in each one of our hearts; a seed that contains the hope of a new beginning and the miracle of salvation.  Our charge is to water that seed with the Word, nourish it with fellowship, and fertilize it with faith, and it will grow and fill our soul with the joy and beauty that God always intended.