December 6. I knew as soon as I woke up this morning that today would be a day to think about Jesus’s mother, Mary. That’s because it was a Mom-day for me. I know, that sounds dumb. If I homeschool and have eight kids, everyday is a Mom-day, right? Of course. But today, I had the privilege of watching one of my children complete something that took an incredible investment of time and effort. Marina has been preparing a Mendelssohn piano concerto for a competition with her youth orchestra. This morning, after a year and a half of preparation, interrupted by three surgeries, she performed her piece beautifully and actually caused a woman in the audience to come up to me in tears to tell me how much the piece moved her. I am not typically a public crier, but that choked me up!

Most days of motherhood are full…mine typically consist of a LOT of diapers and laundry, pouring copious amounts of milk, looking for lost items, negotiating sibling spats, rescuing children in danger, attempting to complete school plans for the day, and feeding meal after meal after meal. They are happy days, but also days filled with a lot of routine caretaking and not a lot of quiet contemplation. But today, I felt like Mary.

I have always loved the part of the Christmas story where the shepherds hurry to find baby Jesus and share what they had been told about the child by the angel: “Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.” (Luke 2:11, ESV). When the shepherds shared this with everyone in the stable, “all who heard it wondered at what the shepherds told them. But Mary treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.” (Luke 2:18-19)

Mary knew instinctively that she was in the midst of a special moment. And so she paused to gather everything about it safely into her memory and to dwell on the meaning in her heart. That is how I felt watching Marina today—actually, it was how I felt AFTER I watched her. During the performance, I mostly felt like I was going to vomit. But when the teary-eyed woman spoke to me, and when I saw Marina’s enthusiasm afterwards, and once we got home and watched the performance again on video, I began to really treasure it.

Marina didn’t win her competition. I was sad for her and a little indignant, as any good mother would be! But the experience of choosing to do something difficult, putting in hours of work, and then bringing it to completion with poise and beauty was the greater prize.

In my mind, I can still hear Marina playing. I hope the memory takes a long time to fade. And I want more of these moments of treasuring—not just of the happy times but of the struggles and disappointments as well. They are the moments when we see who our children really are—much like Mary did when the shepherds announced the very distinct calling on her baby boy’s life. And while, none of us are mothers to the God of the Universe, we are mothers to young people made in His image. And we, too, have much to cherish and ponder.

Lord, thank You for giving Marina a gift and love for music. Thank You for the opportunity You gave her to play and for all of the dedication she put into selecting, learning, and perfecting her piece. Thank You giving me something special to treasure and ponder today. May I learn to look for these moments even in the day-to-day routine of a very full life. In Jesus’ name, I pray. Amen.

“I will praise the name of God with a song; I will magnify him with thanksgiving.” (Psalm 69:30)