Christmas Sunday Moms

Sunday morning was Christmas Sunday, the Sunday right before Christmas. Little girls in frilly dresses. Little boys tugging at the tie mom made him wear. It is the last Sunday that we can hand out our gifts and Christmas cards to our church friends. The Sunday service is for rejoicing and remembering the real reason of this season.

Christmas Sunday I saw all kinds of moms. Moms of every age, with their family by their side.

This Sunday I noticed two moms in particular. The first was a young mom with a toddler who kept catching my attention because as with every toddler, sitting in church is really boring. There are no toys, you can’t be loud, and the only books to read are a Bible or a hymnal. Mom tried her hardest, but little one was just not satisfied with what mom would hand her. At one point, little one was out of the pew, in the aisle, and was tracing with her tiny little finger on the engraved cross in the wood at the end of the pew. Once she was satisfied that the cross had been traced enough, she decided to listen to mom’s continued beckoning to “come sit down”. Little one missed a step and smacked her little lip into the hard, wooden pew. To those of us around watching, there was a collective gasp, as we all imagined the pain and probable scream to follow. Mom jumped up with a pain stricken look on her face as she scooped up little one and coddled her little girl. There was no scream like everyone expected. Just a little tiny cry as she buried her face into mom’s shoulder.

A few rows behind young mom and little one sat an older couple with a senior mom in her 80’s. I love this little family. Senior mom with Bible opened on her lap, sitting next to daughter. Daughter, got up just as the sermon began, very quickly, and left the service. I glanced over at senior mom and saw the look of concern on her face. She was worried for her adult daughter. The thought that went through my mind was, “once a mom, always a mom”. No matter how old your children get, you will always be their mom and be worried for their well-being. Senior mom looked towards the door a few times during the sermon as she expected to see her daughter return soon.

Both these stages of parenting, one a young mom with many years yet to parent and the other whose child is grown and has children and (even grandchildren) her own.

These moms, with their looks of concern, fear, compassion, and love. No matter the age of the child, both moms wanted to wrap their arms around their child and comfort them.

These moms reminded me of another mom. Many years ago, on Christmas Day, a young girl held her own newborn and wanted to comfort this baby boy. He, one day, would die for her and for me. He would give up His life for her, and all others yet to come, so that we could come to live with Him in Heaven one day.

I wonder if she looked at Him and wanted to protect Him from all of it. I wonder if she looked at Him and wondered how this little baby could be the Savior, the Messiah, they had heard would one day come. I wonder if she felt joy and fear and pain, all at once, knowing what His future held. I wonder when the shepards came and worshiped Him, did she really understand who He was. As the angels sang and rejoiced at His birth, did she cuddle him and look into His face and realize that her job to care for this infant, this perfect child, undeserving of any pain or punishment, would suffer and die and take the punishment for me.

All three of these moms, “young mom”, “senior mom” and Mary, mom of my Lord and Savior, had my attention in church on Christmas Sunday.