I remember when each of my boys was born, the sweet relief of holding them, meeting them, beginning this new adventure with them.
But I also recall the complicated emotions of sharing them now with other people. For so many months, my baby had been mine alone. Only I knew his movements, his stirrings, his hiccups. And now he was no longer safely within me, tucked under my own heartbeat.
He was out in the the world, being swaddled by his daddy and examined by doctors and bathed by nurses and adored by grandparents and cooed by visitors. He belonged to everyone now.
And so I wonder how Mary felt in those moments, when the shepherds came to see her Son.
He truly belonged to them – to all of us.
For months, he had been only hers.
Only she knew his stirrings.
And along came these teenage boys, the first to see him, and then to run and tell everyone about him.
He was no longer only hers.
A Savior had been born that day, and part of her heart would forever live outside her body.
“But Mary kept all these things in her heart and thought about them often.”
Maybe she thought,
Even as I share him, they will never have this feeling, these memories, this moment.
These are mine.
Thank you, Mary.
Thank you for sharing him with them, with us.