Humble Christ. Humble Mother.

"Did you know, that your Baby Boy has walked where angels trod?
When you kiss your little Baby, you kissed the face of God?"

Christmas still months away, I sit at my computer, breastfeeding my one-month-old, listening to "Mary Did You Know." Maybe it's just the postpartum hormones, but I tear up sentimentally. In this moment I am struck with how very humble Christ was, to come as a baby first. He didn't just show up on the scene 30-ish years old, ready to start his ministry and then die at the end. He went through the whole growing up thing. How vulnerable he was, a helpless newborn! He relied on a human mother to keep Him alive at first (with God's protective help, though). This thought is a lot more real with my own baby in my arms.

The realization sure puts my pride in perspective. How ridiculously out of place it is, when God was okay with putting His Son completely at the mercy of a young woman. I'm sure Mary felt some of that weight of awe and responsibility, as this song so famously wonders. I feel the weight with my own tender child, and she's certainly not divine.

Being a new mom makes you humble too. In the first weeks of my daughter's life, I found myself getting butterflies in my stomach each time a friend told me they were coming over to visit. I had invited them of course, and I was excited to introduce our precious little one. But I got nervous… Why? When I realized this was a pattern, I explained it to my husband. Part of his theory was that our house wasn't as clean as it normally would be when accepting guests. Perhaps I felt a little embarrassed for my friends to see a messier version of myself than I normally would present to them.

Funny, huh? Pride has to go out the window when you have a newborn. Just weeks prior I would have had those dishes done in no time split--it was a smooth pregnancy--and felt a whole ton better for having a clean kitchen. Can you tell I'm an achiever? But even if baby were napping, I couldn't stand that long: I was too sore from childbirth. I could barely stand the few minutes to greet my guests because of the discomfort. Humbling, to be sure.

It's okay though. It's a good exercise for me, to show the new cracks in my prideful armor of image. Let the sink get a little fuller. Admit my physical weakness. This way I'm learning to care a little less about minor things, and remember that this child is my first priority now. Yes, that means even items two and three on my to-do list might not get done, let alone the whole thing. Yes, that meant staying on the couch so I could heal, instead of getting my guests a glass of water. Instead, I remind myself each day of my new motherhood that I've accomplished my main objective: Keep Child Alive. Check.

Some of my friends are amazed that I wanted guests at all in these first few weeks. I totally don't judge the tired, sore, or introverted mothers who don't want them. But I did. I was so proud of this beautiful little being that grew inside me, and I truly wanted my extended family and closest friends to meet her. I also wanted the emotional encouragement, along with the gifted dinners, so I'm thankful God gave me the wisdom to ignore my pride and let people in. If Jesus could humbly let Himself be raised by lowly Mary, so could I let others into my home and see my vulnerability. In doing so, I found that I gained greatly.

Thoughfully writing on,
Ellen H.

P.S. I'm partial to Clay Aiken's version of this song. Okay, Pentatonix's is also pretty great.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiL993FK0y4
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifCWN5pJGIE