Here's what I wrote:
The boys and I unearthed the Christmas boxes, buried deep within the recesses of our basement. We spewed the contents on the floor. The boys eyed the evergreen wreaths, nativity scenes, and peppermint scented candles. They inspected each item, tossing out Christmas memories as they played.
My two-year-old son Collin picked up a nutcracker. It looked regal, clad in a deep purple jacket with crimson cuffs. A bejeweled metallic crown perched on its head.
Collin gazed at me and said, “Is this Jesus?”
I smiled, and shook my head.
“No, that’s not Jesus,” I replied.
Then, I picked up a Fisher Price plastic baby Jesus, part of a children’s nativity set. The baby figurine lay in a wooden box, nestled among the plastic hay strands.
“This is Jesus, “ I said as I pointed to the baby.
Collin looked perplexed, and insisted that the regal nutcracker was Jesus.
I understood his confusion. I’m sure he’s heard about this majestic Jesus, “King of Kings, Lord of Lords.” Certainly, this tiny baby didn’t fit his mental image of a savior. Wouldn’t Jesus look more like a king?
It got me to thinking: Why did Jesus come into Earth in such a humble fashion? Couldn’t He have chosen a more regal entrance, a more dazzling form?
But, his entrance to the world, in a form of an infant, showed his humanity and humility. As John Saward said, “The Son of God became little to make us great, and yet He also became little to help us to be little, to be high in sanctity by becoming low in humility.” How grateful I am that He came as He did.
Two-year-old Collin won’t understand all this quite yet.
I gathered Collin onto my lap and pulled out a Christmas picture book. We read about Jesus the infant, born in a stable, placed in a manager.
Right now it’s just a story to him; someday it will be more.
We celebrated Grandma's 90th birthday and my niece, Savannah's first birthday.
During the party, Caleb kept busy working on Lego creations.