The heart of Christmas for me will always be somehow and yet not quite, "the fellowship of His sufferings." Our family's first Christmas was on the other side of the world, I was several months pregnant. We were kind of poor, and far from family and home. It was very poignant to me, this "knowing what it's like." (A phrase I just learned from my Philosophy professor.) On the other hand, I had been pregnant before we were married, so instead of being innocent, like Mary, I desperately recognized my need of a Savior that Christmas. The people around Mary didn't know that it was a God thing that was going on. Even Joseph, "being a righteous man, had decided to put her away quietly," until God intervened. And so, I also knew what it was like to have to endure the shame of a hasty marriage and the taunts of the people around me.
A little over six weeks later, our daughter was born. The hospital where she was born was not equipped for preemies and those were the days before they invented all those ways to save preemies anyway. She died within hours of her birth.
All these years later, I try to explain to my kids why a Christmas far from family and friends and not having money for a lot of gifts is more "true" than a Christmas of cozy abundance. I try to explain to my son why we must celebrate Advent at home and prepare our hearts to celebrate His coming. The Word became flesh and dwelt among us and we beheld His glory. (Pardon my paraphrasing.) He didn't come with great wealth and honor, but in great humility. God, Creator of the universe, without Him nothing that was made was made, came as a poor little baby, and we received Him not. This is the real Christmas. But to those who received Him, to those who believed in His Name, He gave the privilege of becoming the children of God. (More paraphrasing...sorry!)
