On being his Mary

It was far too cold to be outside, but they were far too crazy to keep indoors. Talmage was singing the "I'm a gummy bear" song for the bajillionth time and Ever was following the direction of the old school anthem bearing the same name by "bouncing here and there and everywhere." We must do something, I thought while watching the mayhem unfold in my living room (which doubles as the kitchen, dining room, playroom and more often than not, bedroom).

"We are going on a scooter ride!" I told them, knowing that the sanity of all three of us rested in that decision. So helmets on and out the door we went.

We were not adequately prepared for the cold that met us as we ventured out our lobby doors--no mittens were worn and no hats covered our ears; I didn't even bring our stroller with sleeping bags for each boy to escape into when the going got too tough. But the air was fresh as it hit my face, and I could tell that the boys were feeling the same energy I was. We were alive, and we were outside, a welcome combination on this late December morning.

Talmage scooted and Everett half-scooted, half-complained all the way to the park near our house. T-Man was in heaven, scooting into the frosty wind and showing me all sorts of "new tricks."

"Watch Mom, did you even know that I can do a spin move?" And then he'd spin, and I'd clap and the cycle would begin anew with Talmage searching for more acts to show me.

By the time we got to the park, Ever was a popsicle and asked if he could sit on "da warm bench" with me while we watched T tear up the playground on his kickboard. I held that little 2-year-old in my arms and tried to warm him up. I tucked his hands into his jacket, I covered his face with my scarf and as I rubbed his body for warmth, I rocked him back and forth and sang him a song which both of my boys love--the Signing Time song, changed to say their names.

"Baby, baby, baby Ever Knight. Baby, baby, baby Ever Knight..." I sang and warmed him until my made-up words were sung and his body was no longer shivering. As I looked down at that baby on my lap, I saw his big brown eyes, twinkling a love song in my direction.

"You my Mawy," he said with the sweetest, shyest smile.

"I'm your Mary?" I asked, unsure of what he meant.

"Yeah, you my Mawy. And I yo baby," he said, his eyes still dancing. And then I understood. For weeks he's been hearing stories of that night in Bethlehem when the Christ child was born. We went to a live nativity and we've played with our Fisher Price version every single day with perfect accuracy (of course, with T as the director how could it not be!) We've talked endlessly about the baby Jesus, but we've also talked a lot about his mother Mary, that beautifully strong woman who loved that baby more than life itself. And as I was cuddling Ever Knight on that cold winter day in the park, he saw Mary in me, the highest compliment I could have ever been paid.

I looked down at that baby in my arms with wonder at all he continues to teach me. I thought about all the times I wondered if God knew what He was doing in giving me such a special soul to mother. I wonder still what He has in store for me, and him. And sometimes I even wonder why. Images of late-night hospital stays, journals full of worry and pleas to the Father filled my heart and for a brief moment, I shared a silent, sacred kinship with Mary, that young women who "offered all she had, to the mercy of His plan."

"Are you pretending you're Jesus?" I asked him, after a few moments spent pondering.

"Yeah, I petending be baby Jesus," he replied. But then he slowly shook his head with new words to share, "No, I be yo baby, I Ever Knight. And you my Mawy."

He wanted to be himself, my sweet little Ever Knight, but he also wanted me to rock him, to keep him warm, and to console him just as he'd seen Mary do so many different times this month. He wanted me to be his Mary, and I was sure grateful to fill the role.

The moment passed slowly, and with just one simple request life continued.

"Sing to me?" he asked.

"Of course," I whispered.

So I sang and we sat and I was warmed by the spirit as he was warmed by my hands and I thought about Christmas and Christ and Mary and my baby, Ever Knight, who found a way on this cold day to bring them all to life again.