One More Christmas

I left my mom’s nursing home with a heavy heart last night. We were enjoying Rose, the social director, crooning karaoke Christmas tunes like Nat King Cole. All the other seniors clapped and sang along gleefully, confidently belting out lyrics that surfaced by memory for most of them. But Mom was laboring to breathe. Her oxygen was getting low, and I don’t think she wanted to say anything for fear a nurse might pull her away from this event to swap out her tank. I left the room to find someone who could help her. With severe emphysema, she would need more air quickly.

While we waited for the nurse to appear, I rubbed my mom’s shoulders and back. It had been years since I’d given her a backrub, something we used to do ritually when I lived at home. Years in a wheelchair have left her with knotted muscles. She groaned quietly at my touch. How many times had she rubbed my back, or gently stroked my face and arms to help me get to sleep? In that moment, I desperately wanted to turn back time. I want my mommy, my heart cried. And I want at least one more Christmas with her.

The Locke family from Washington, Illinois, knows too well this same desperate plea for one more Christmas. Austin and Julie’s two-year-old son, Dax, was fighting a rare form of leukemia. After two bone marrow transplants, there was nothing more that could be done medically to cure his cancer. Given just a few weeks with a happy boy, the Locke family decided to celebrate every day like it was Christmas because this was Dax’s favorite holiday.

Friends, family, and St. Jude’s Hospital wanted to show their love and support for the Lockes without intruding on their last few precious weeks together. They rallied together and decorated early for Christmas. People in their town, and even more from around the world, put up their Christmas trees, hung lights, and even made signs for Dax and submitted photos to the website www.decoratefordax.com.

Dax did make it to see one last Christmas. And Grammy winner Matthew West recently released a new song and music video titled “One Last Christmas,” which captured the “big reveal” of the town’s decorating efforts as well as the love that was lavished on little Dax throughout his short life. Warning: Be prepared with tissues before watching.

Sadly, that was Dax’s last Christmas. He passed away on December 30, 2009. But Matthew West’s song and video pay tribute to a beautiful little boy, his loving parents, and a whole town that came alongside to give them a special Christmas they’ll always remember. And West is using this song as a way to let people know how they can support the Locke family and provide donations to help fund St. Jude’s Hospital for one day.

Watching West’s music video, I feel a pang of heartache for this family. To lose a young child is too painful for words. But in this music video, we learn from the Lockes how to live every day with those we love like it’s Christmas.

I savored that sing-along with my mom, not knowing how many more years I’d get to hear her sing in a low, quiet voice and wag her finger at me, telling me, “You better watch out, you better not cry . . . Santa Claus is coming to town.” Whether this is our last or one of many more, I’m grateful to the Lockes for showing me how to celebrate this Christmas season with my mom.

Singing of Mother Mary

I used to feel an inner struggle whenever I’d hum or sing the famous Beatles’ song “Let It Be.” I loved the tune, and I really liked the general message of the song . . . except for that darn, pesky line about “mother Mary” coming and urging the songwriter (Paul McCartney) to simply “let it be.” The idea of Mary showing up to give the Beatles advice seemed like just one more wrong, off-the-rocker example of Marian mythology in our culture. As an evangelical, I always felt it was my duty to shrug off and fastidiously avoid anything mystical, magical, mythical, or even remotely special regarding Mary.

So it was a great relief the other day when my husband (a Beatles scholar/fanatic) informed me that Paul wasn’t talking about Mary the mother of Jesus—he was writing about a dream he had of his own mother (named Mary). She’d died of cancer when Paul was a teenager; as the song describes, Paul dreamed of his mother coming to him and speaking words of peace.

Phew. Now I can sing that song (one of my favorites) in good conscience!

Many of us Protestants experience a similar discomfort with all things Marian. This subtle aversion to Mary (except, of course, in December) seems to be bred into us. Though our beliefs affirm how blessed she was to be chosen by God, in our practice we hardly mention her for 11 months of the year.

To a certain degree, there’s good reason for this impulse. Within some segments of Catholicism, Marian devotion appears heretical and even borders on the bizarre. There are the countless claims of Marian apparitions—some even believe in and make pilgrimages to see her image on water-stained drywall, a pancake, or a potato chip (no joke!). Other Catholics put such a heavy focus on their devotion to Mary, the “Queen of Heaven,” that Jesus seems to take a far distant second place. (It should be noted that these degrees of obsession with Mary fall well outside the bounds of official Catholic teaching.)

Yet in our efforts to differentiate ourselves from these unbiblical approaches to Mary, we’ve swung the pendulum too far the other direction. Lest people think we worship Mary, we hardly talk about her. We study, read about, and discuss biblical heroes like Hannah, Esther, Ruth, or Mary (of “Mary and Martha” fame), but rarely give our attention to the one woman, out of all the women on the planet throughout all of human history, whom God chose to bear and raise his son, Jesus.

If any woman in Scripture deserves our attention, she does!

Thankfully, one time a year (at Christmas), we do draw our attention to Mary. In our hearts, we journey with her to Bethlehem. We wait by the manger. We, too, ponder the miracle and treasure it in our hearts.

This Advent I find myself floored by Mary’s example—inspired, convicted, compelled ever closer to God. I plan to hold Mary’s story close to my heart . . . the other 11 months of the year!

How do you think of Mary? How does her story inspire or convict you? What role does she play as a hero of faith in your life?