Mary, did you know?

Remember when I complained for months and months that Henry was teething, but had no teeth to show for it? Well, let's just say he is making up for lost time. His mouth is exploding with teeth, and my ambitious little boy is even working on a back molar. It has been a consistently rough five weeks.

So, here I am feeling exhausted, over-spent, frazzled, and unkempt as I dive head-first into Christmas craziness, and I've noticed something. Nativities. I mean, they are all gorgeous--even the simple ones! And the figure that bothers me most is Mary. Okay, I have had a baby, so you're not fooling me! I gave birth in a clean hospital, and the process was still a hot mess. So, I don't believe that Mary experiencing child birth in a filthy, stinky stable would leave her looking so ridiculously perfect! I get that her child was the most perfect, and most holy baby ever, but I don't think that his entrance into the world caused a blast of magic to sweep over the stable that made everyone look like they were doing a photo shoot.

So, what are we all playing at with our lovely nativity sets? I have thought about this a lot, because to me the holiness of that wonderful, perfect child is not enough. And then yesterday, I finally understood. I was playing with my giggly boy--grinning with his now toothy smile--after his nap yesterday, when I saw one of our nativities out of the corner of my eye. In that moment I realized that Mary and Joseph's "insides" are on their "outsides." We have put the feelings of their very full hearts, that properly reflect the beauty and holiness and glory of that moment, onto their faces and clothing instead.

This could not be more appropriate. Parenthood may not be glamorous, but it is glorious. If a figure were to be made of how I feel about being a mother, it would not look like me (frazzled, unkempt, etc.). The most accurate figure would show me radiantly and exquisitely happy--bursting with joy and with love.