A baby! Making room for the child at Christmas
November 25, 2019 at 5:50 p.m.
Dec. 28 – that date will be engraved on my heart until I die. Advent had always been a special time of awe and anticipation, until the year 2007, when that holy season of preparation and lights became all too real.
A baby!
It is one thing to prepare for a day that includes Mass, an overabundance of food, gifts and all that gathering with family might entail. It is quite another thing to prepare for the coming of a baby.
The anticipation of our first child brought equal doses of excitement and fear. My wife, Rebecca, and I were renting a place in Hightstown and began shopping and organizing our home months before Advent even began. St. Anthony of Padua Parish in Hightstown was decorated for the season, as was the parish in the Diocese of Metuchen, where I worked as a youth minister.
All of a sudden, on that first Sunday of Advent, I was hearing Jesus talking about thieves in the night and not knowing when they were coming, referring of course to the coming of the Son of Man, but I was now preparing for the coming of the “son of mine.” We decided early on in my wife’s pregnancy that we would not find out if the baby was a boy or a girl. We agreed that not knowing was a beautiful grace.
In the Reading, St. Paul told us we knew the time – it was time to wake from our sleep. I wondered what the Romans thought, those who received this message almost 2,000 years ago. For me, the time meant that I was getting ready to be a dad.
THE BABY WAS GROWING, and my wife was often uncomfortable. She had a hard time sleeping and moving around, but she was a champ, an absolute champ. We read to the baby. We sang to the baby. We watched it move and kick. The baby was already making its way into the center of our lives, leading us just like the reading from Isaiah talked about that second Sunday of Advent. Christmas lights were showing up all over the neighborhoods of Hightstown.
“Prepare the way of the Lord!” we heard in Matthew’s Gospel that Sunday. My wife and I started to feel that we had aptly prepared for our little lord or lady. The crib was put together. The linens were chosen. Walls were painted. Images of cartoon animals donned the walls, and we got a rocking chair for the room.
Preparation also meant getting ready for the poop, so we got a changing table and a dedicated garbage can. “Prepare the way!” We took that very seriously. It was a detail that had not crossed my mind prior, but was now all too real. Mary and Joseph would clean Jesus after he pooped. To me, that was yet another step deeper into all that Christmas meant, all that Christmas means. God became human.
BY THE THIRD WEEK of Advent, my wife was certainly ready to welcome this little bundle, but James’ letter told us to be patient. What? How could we be patient? But James said to us again, “You must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.”
For me, I was starting to get fearful. Would I be sufficient as a father, as a husband? I thought so, but honesty, how do we prepare for parenthood? To adequately protect and teach this child?
A baby should transform the entire life of the mother, father, siblings and extended family. Christmas calls us to change – to be open to it – and that means looking beyond the fluff and stuff. It means connecting all aspects of life with the how, why and when with what matters. That’s what parents do once their lives are no longer their own.
For the parent and all who are not, Advent offers a time to reflect on how to connect with the Lord in all moments of life. We want the connections to be easily visible and plentiful, but in Isaiah on the fourth Sunday of Advent, King Ahaz of Judah says not to bother the Lord asking for signs. “Do not put the Lord to the test!” The signs are everywhere already that the Lord is with us. Emmanuel! “God with us!”
What more do we need? The mystery and unknown a child brings to life is miraculous.
CHRISTMAS DAY CAME AND WENT. The baby Jesus was placed in the crib. And yet we were still waiting for our child. That speaks loudly to me still. Christmas should never really come and go. We are all called to be vigilant and “ever-waiting” for the Christ-child, preparing ourselves with anticipation and a tinge of fear of the unknown.
Then, on the evening of Dec. 27, our baby was ready for us to meet. Rebecca continued to be a true champ, and though she had already worked so hard to get us to that point and had been in labor for hours, her work as a mother was just starting. There was no chorus of angels singing, but it was no less sacred when we heard the doctor say, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.” He was born Dec. 28.
Yes, Emmanuel means “God with us,” but it is up to us to see that God is truly with us. The journey of Advent is a journey without end because once we accept God in our hearts, our lives should be forever transformed. The child Jesus is for each of us, and I think that should excite – and scare – us a little. It means making room and accepting the responsibility that it entails.
Emmett, “God’s with us.”
Matthew (Mateo) Greeley is the diocesan associate director of the Office of Communications and Media and coordinator for Spanish-language communication.
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Dec. 28 – that date will be engraved on my heart until I die. Advent had always been a special time of awe and anticipation, until the year 2007, when that holy season of preparation and lights became all too real.
A baby!
It is one thing to prepare for a day that includes Mass, an overabundance of food, gifts and all that gathering with family might entail. It is quite another thing to prepare for the coming of a baby.
The anticipation of our first child brought equal doses of excitement and fear. My wife, Rebecca, and I were renting a place in Hightstown and began shopping and organizing our home months before Advent even began. St. Anthony of Padua Parish in Hightstown was decorated for the season, as was the parish in the Diocese of Metuchen, where I worked as a youth minister.
All of a sudden, on that first Sunday of Advent, I was hearing Jesus talking about thieves in the night and not knowing when they were coming, referring of course to the coming of the Son of Man, but I was now preparing for the coming of the “son of mine.” We decided early on in my wife’s pregnancy that we would not find out if the baby was a boy or a girl. We agreed that not knowing was a beautiful grace.
In the Reading, St. Paul told us we knew the time – it was time to wake from our sleep. I wondered what the Romans thought, those who received this message almost 2,000 years ago. For me, the time meant that I was getting ready to be a dad.
THE BABY WAS GROWING, and my wife was often uncomfortable. She had a hard time sleeping and moving around, but she was a champ, an absolute champ. We read to the baby. We sang to the baby. We watched it move and kick. The baby was already making its way into the center of our lives, leading us just like the reading from Isaiah talked about that second Sunday of Advent. Christmas lights were showing up all over the neighborhoods of Hightstown.
“Prepare the way of the Lord!” we heard in Matthew’s Gospel that Sunday. My wife and I started to feel that we had aptly prepared for our little lord or lady. The crib was put together. The linens were chosen. Walls were painted. Images of cartoon animals donned the walls, and we got a rocking chair for the room.
Preparation also meant getting ready for the poop, so we got a changing table and a dedicated garbage can. “Prepare the way!” We took that very seriously. It was a detail that had not crossed my mind prior, but was now all too real. Mary and Joseph would clean Jesus after he pooped. To me, that was yet another step deeper into all that Christmas meant, all that Christmas means. God became human.
BY THE THIRD WEEK of Advent, my wife was certainly ready to welcome this little bundle, but James’ letter told us to be patient. What? How could we be patient? But James said to us again, “You must be patient. Strengthen your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is near.”
For me, I was starting to get fearful. Would I be sufficient as a father, as a husband? I thought so, but honesty, how do we prepare for parenthood? To adequately protect and teach this child?
A baby should transform the entire life of the mother, father, siblings and extended family. Christmas calls us to change – to be open to it – and that means looking beyond the fluff and stuff. It means connecting all aspects of life with the how, why and when with what matters. That’s what parents do once their lives are no longer their own.
For the parent and all who are not, Advent offers a time to reflect on how to connect with the Lord in all moments of life. We want the connections to be easily visible and plentiful, but in Isaiah on the fourth Sunday of Advent, King Ahaz of Judah says not to bother the Lord asking for signs. “Do not put the Lord to the test!” The signs are everywhere already that the Lord is with us. Emmanuel! “God with us!”
What more do we need? The mystery and unknown a child brings to life is miraculous.
CHRISTMAS DAY CAME AND WENT. The baby Jesus was placed in the crib. And yet we were still waiting for our child. That speaks loudly to me still. Christmas should never really come and go. We are all called to be vigilant and “ever-waiting” for the Christ-child, preparing ourselves with anticipation and a tinge of fear of the unknown.
Then, on the evening of Dec. 27, our baby was ready for us to meet. Rebecca continued to be a true champ, and though she had already worked so hard to get us to that point and had been in labor for hours, her work as a mother was just starting. There was no chorus of angels singing, but it was no less sacred when we heard the doctor say, “Congratulations, it’s a boy.” He was born Dec. 28.
Yes, Emmanuel means “God with us,” but it is up to us to see that God is truly with us. The journey of Advent is a journey without end because once we accept God in our hearts, our lives should be forever transformed. The child Jesus is for each of us, and I think that should excite – and scare – us a little. It means making room and accepting the responsibility that it entails.
Emmett, “God’s with us.”
Matthew (Mateo) Greeley is the diocesan associate director of the Office of Communications and Media and coordinator for Spanish-language communication.