Tonight as we walked into our church, Harriet wailed and cried. She was still angry that we had put her in that blasted car seat. She is not a fan of the car and protests every minute of every drive. We entered loudly, but I realized quickly that the church was silent. The service had just begun, the doors to the sanctuary still open, and as I walked by the sanctuary with my screaming baby, trying to get to the nursery so I could close the door, the congregation sat in silence.
Hattie was fine as soon as she was out of her car seat and when we got into the service our pastor was talking about the 400 years of silence when God's people did not hear from God. The 400 years where there was not a prophet speaking, no signs and wonders, nothing. And then, of all things to break the silence, a baby cried out.
He is here. God is with us. Emmanuel.
There are only a few Christmas' when you get to hold a baby in your arms. But this was one for me. As I held Hattie I thought about how bizarre of a beginning this Christmas story really is. A baby. Born to be our bridge back to God. Babies are so unpredictable. Hattie had tummy cramps and winced throughout the service, crying out once in a while. Jesus was a baby like this. Mary had to stand and bounce him, too.
We sang carols, read scripture and again tried to wrap our mortal minds around the wonder of it all.
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