Christmas Surprises, Part 2

Two years after our adventure in the little Grumman, we found ourselves traveling home for Christmas from Texas yet again. This time, there’d be no flying—commercially or privately. We’d drive the entire way in our little green 1974 Dodge Dart, packed to the hilt. But this time, we carried with us the most precious cargo ever: our seven-month-old son.

After a fun-filled time with my family in Manitoba, we continued to Alberta to celebrate a late Christmas with Hubby’s family. Another surprise awaited us. Our normally contented, easy-going baby suddenly became anything but. Nobody in that household slept much when for three nights in a row, our son cried. Loudly. All. Night. Long. Had all the traveling and disruption in routine unsettled him? 

His grandparents showed compassion. Grandma took her turn carrying the baby around, trying to soothe him. Grandpa commented on his healthy set of lungs. His two single uncles, however, were not quite as gracious. They’d never been exposed to a baby in the house. When one of them suggested, “Shut that kid up!” and laughed to let me know he was joking, I received it as one of those kidding/not kidding lines. It stung.

No, this isn't my child. But even the sweetest baby cries.

We all survived. On the same trip, we traded our Dart for my in-laws’ brown cargo van, a sweet deal for us. I’m sure everyone felt relieved when we loaded it for our return trip to Texas. To save money, we made a bed in the back where we could sleep—or not sleep—out of everyone else’s hearing range.

You probably know verse two of Away in a Manger, where it says, “the little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes.” As a child, I believed it. After all, why would a perfect human ever cry? Perhaps Baby Jesus knew the song that admonishes kids to behave for Santa: “You better watch out, you better not cry…”

Kind of a horrible lesson to teach a child, isn’t it? For that matter, what about the adults?

I’m certain that if we could see into that stable on the night Jesus was born, we’d see plenty of tears. The setting was anything but serene. Few birthing rooms are. Add in the public atmosphere, the noises and smells of large animals, the filth, the cold, the frustrations and angst of misplaced humanity, terrified new parents and a newborn, and you’ve got one extremely sleepless night—probably for the entire neighborhood.

Aren’t you glad Jesus came into our world fully human, experiencing all the same things we do? That God gave tears for our healing? That he gave babies a way to communicate, even when they keep us awake?

By the time our son experienced his fifteenth Christmas, singer/songwriter Chris Rice had released a much more realistic carol. With its soothing, lullaby melody, Welcome to Our World’s message reaches far more deeply:

“Hope that You don’t mind our manger
How I wish we could have known
But long-awaited, Holy Stranger
Make Yourself at home
Please make Yourself at home
Bring Your peace into our violence
Bid our hungry souls be filled
Word now breaking Heaven’s silence
Welcome to our world.”

(Song by Chris Rice, © 1997 Downtown Music Publishing, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.)