Do you ever think about Jesus wearing diapers? This particular thought had not crossed my mind until…
Out of the blue, a couple weeks before Christmas, I was asked to do a dramatic reading on Christmas Eve. I would be reading scripture and the part of Mary in certain scenes.
Wow! Lord, thank you. What an amazing opportunity to even pretend to be your holy son’s mother for the sake of telling others about Jesus.
Overwhelmed, excited and a bit unsure I could bring forth Mary’s Godly obedience in my tone.
Upon practice, I was asked to bring more emotion to the scene where Mary is eight and a half months pregnant. I was supposed to imagine how Mary felt as Joseph is telling her she will need to up and leave her home to have this baby.
“If you want attitude, I can bring it. But this is Mary, mother of Jesus (and the choir sings AHHHHH).”
Pastor encouraged me to think of Mary as a human, as she was. Young and pregnant, and tradition was the whole town was involved in a baby’s birth. Her husband was telling her she would have to sit her pregnant self on a donkey for a long journey away from her all the support of her family. As we have read, there was not much happening in Nazareth.
For me, I could relate to poor Mary. We had both our boys far, far away in Italy. No family, no songs or meals made for us when we got home. When we had Braedon, the military base did not have a hospital yet. We Americans were given a floor in the local Sacile hospital. Drab on the outside. Screaming clean on the inside…smelled like it was doused with bleach. There were no fancy pictures on the walls or soft-colored welcomes for babies. Just your basic beds and rooms.
The more I thought of Mary, the more the human baby Jesus came into focus. I am not referring to the display of characters you have on your mantle, that plastic baby laying in a miniature manger.
I am talking about the King of the World who nursed at Mary’s breast.
Jesus, Our Holy Savior, peed and pooped in diapers.
I wonder if he ever got an ear infection?
I wonder if he sucked his thumb?
I wonder if he bonded as well with Joseph when he was little as he did with his mother who carried him for nine months?
His birth story is our story.
His death story is our life.
Join me as I celebrate STORY this year. I will be live on Facebook from my page
http://www.Facebook.com/JulieDibbleChristianSpeakerandAuthor on Tuesday January 3rd at 10am Eastern time with an announcement about how I will celebrate STORY this year on my blog.
As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. Thank you for visiting my blog today.