What Child is This!?

While dating my husband, I wrestled with just one doubt as to our compatibility: he wanted a little girl.  Not just any little girl, but a blond-haired, blue-eyed, skinny one.  The kind that filled a room with her smile and charmed the world with her presence. 

I weighed twelve pounds at birth and more than 100 by age eight.  My blue eyes came through a recessive gene that surely would not repeat, and they don’t make a bleach strong enough to take me platinum.  I am a bit of a nerd and happily introverted, I don’t even have enough charm for a bracelet. 

I truly believed the child my husband wanted was a genetic impossibility.

Then I had Teagan.

Six pounds at birth, she (now eight)  only weighs 60 pounds . . . when wet.  Blonde haired and blue-eyed, she not only fills a room but also brings the walls down. She cartwheels her way through life with an energy and social prowess that I envy.

I examine her head to toe and literally think to myself: “whose child is this!?”

Most days I am prone to believe that she was switched at birth . . . and then there are these moments . . . when I know she is all mine.  Like the day my husband didn’t lay out a towel for her.  She stood buck naked, hand on hip, in the middle of the kitchen and sarcastically “thanked” him for leaving her something to dry off with.  He responded with: “it’s a good thing God gave you two legs so you can get your own towel.”  Without a hitch she glared back at him and announced, “well, it’s a good thing God gave you a brain because you should have known better.”

Aww, yes, I  KNOW  that sarcastic wit.  It has been passed down through many generations of women in my family.

I do wonder, though, did Mary recognize Jesus?

Did she look for her features in His face, tickle his toes to see if they curled like hers, listen for her tone in His voice.

In so many ways, He must have been unrecognizable to her.  He never did anything wrong.  Not even once.  As pure as Mary was, she undoubtedly was not perfect.  Yet, she had a perfect child.  Did she witness  His deity and think:  “whose child is this!?”

Then . . . there had to be moments . . . when she saw His humanity and related.  Like when He was hungry, when He wept for His friend, when He raged over the injustice in the temple.  She then could recognize herself in Him.

He came as a child so we can all relate, we can see ourselves in His needs, His emotions, His experiences. 

More importantly, He sees Himself in us.  Knows everything about everything we are.  And He relates.

He came as a child, knew humanity, and conquered it.  When we are in Him, God says He sees Christ in us.  Human, and yet perfected by the blood.

I often tell my husband that every time He looks at our daughter it should be a reminder of just how much God loves him.  God defied all logic to give my husband the desires of His heart.

Christmas is a day to look at a Child and remember how much God loves us.  He defied all logic and brought salvation in a manger.

My DNA at work . . .

. . . and then my husband’s genes take over