Christmas Eve 2010

May the strong grace, the gentle comfort, and the sure guidance of the Divine Beloved be with you.

As I begin this, it is still dark outside. The sun is just beginning to make her marks on the trees, snow, and balcony outside my sliding glass door. There are white Christmas lights bordering the door which is sealed with weatherproofing. I am grateful to be warm and drinking my masala chai, protected from the harshness of weather.

For the last couple of years I have returned to this place of intentional gratitude for being sheltered, fed, and clothed. I know that there are many more people in the world than I can imagine who have much much less than I have. Ah, you may think, but you don't have that much. No, I don't possess many things, but I do have ample food and shelter. There was a time when each night I searched for where I would sleep and each day I did not know if I would have food. Because I could not be what and who I thought I was supposed to be, I took to isolation. I hid so that I would not stick out, feel shame, and cause anyone who knew me and loved me to feel embarrassment.

As the sun exposes the misty grayness of the day, as the outline of the tree limbs become clearer, and as we move from Advent to Christmas I begin to think about the harsh conditions that Mary endured during her pregnancy and then on her pilgrimage to Joseph's hometown which ended in her giving birth. I wonder if she felt shame during her pregnancy and hid so that she did not embarrass her family or Joseph. I wonder if she had second thoughts about her calling while on the road to Bethlehem. I wonder if the long trek on a hard road with the stress of not finding lodging induced her labor. And I wonder if after she gave birth to a healthy baby boy if the blurry outlines of her understanding came into focus, if she was able to celebrate with the shepherds and the angels or if she fell asleep exhausted after feeding her newborn from her already tired body.

Mary's story is told over and over, mostly focusing on Jesus and the greatness and wonder of his birth. I love Jesus. His life, teaching, and actions guide me. But this year my thoughts wander to Mary, a woman in crisis. The story of Mary reminds me that there are many mothers whose pregnancies are criticized and who give birth in harsh conditions. This story also reminds me that there are many sons and daughters who work hard to live a life worthy of their mother's love and vision for them and in the end are bullied, accused of having wrongful motivations and of committing shameful crimes against people, the state, and God. These other stories are rarely known outside of their circle and even more rarely told.

Maybe my thoughts are wandering this way because my community of late is centered around women, some of whom are doulas, midwives, mothers, and/or educators. I hear many stories of births, raising children, hopes for children, disappointment, and strength. For most of my life, Mary being pregnant and giving birth was more theoretical and spiritual than physical. I imagined her not shouting out in pain much like we read that Jesus did not shout out in pain when he was on the cross. Today, on this eve of our celebration of the birth of our Messiah, my spirit is pulled toward Mary as a mother about to give birth and to her pain and hope.

The isolation of Mary and Joseph in a barn gives way to a crowded stable nursery, at least in most Crèche's, filled with angels, shepherds, wise men, sheep, cows, and the like. We see Mary, Joseph, and Jesus being surrounded by admirers and worshipers. Soon they will be isolated again, but for now, they have a makeshift community supporting them and giving their flagging vision some needed encouragement. They will go on, continuing their hard journey with the memory of those moments of wonder and support.

For me, now the sun is fully up. The day is still misty gray, but the trees, the snow, and the house across the way are fully in view. The hardships of my life which began because I was confused and in many different kinds of pain are lifted. I feel lucky to be on this side of my life. This Christmas Eve I feel the pull to be a witness of the mystery of hope in the midst of dire circumstances.

Many blessings to you, my reader. Consider the awe of the birthing of Jesus. I pray that you find the strength of Mary every day of your life.