This year we have much to be grateful for, because my daughter Karin, after years of trying, is finally pregnant…with twins, a boy and a girl. I hope you will join us in our prayers that she will carry her babies as close to their March 22nd birthdate as possible. Hers is a high risk pregnancy, but we feel the Lord blessing her daily.
As for this story, it was written with our beautiful Karin as the inspiration, because she had just begun her first series of IVF treatments. It took her three rounds to get her miracle, and we are so grateful that she did. Of course, this is not Karin's literal story, the only part I took from her experience is the in vitro fertilization that was so much on our minds back in 2012 at the time of its writing.
Merry Christmas to you!
Gifts of the Magi
©2012
Susan Noyes Anderson
Gold, frankincense and
myrrh. The real thing, in a gilded box. She’d bought it on a whim one morning,
more years ago than she cared to remember, for her Christmas baby. It had
seemed the perfect gift for a newborn…a sacred offering, of sorts. Maybe even a
blessing. Lord knows, they’d needed it.
Megan’s eyes glistened.
She’d been a dreamer back then, a believer, but somehow she’d lost it. Not all
at once, but by threads…sheer, gossamer ones that glittered as they fell like
burnished gold. Inconsequential, they had seemed, and not quite worth the time
to pick them up. There were plenty more where those came from, right? And
sometimes, you just had to let things go.
Like her baby. She’d had to
let her go, and no amount of idealism
could have saved her. A mother is
a mother is a mother, even when she isn’t old enough to buy cigarettes. Reality
does set in, eventually. Diapers and formula cost money, and that was only the
beginning. Her little girl deserved safety and security, party dresses and
piano lessons, two grown-up parents to love her.
By the seventh month, she’d
known she couldn’t keep her. Or maybe she knew from the first kick, when what
had been a beautiful idea first introduced herself as a real person. Megan
smiled. Her little Merry, she had called her. M-E-R-R-Y. For Christmas. And for
the joy she would bring…but not to her. Not to her birth mother. Instead, she
would light up another mother’s eyes. A mother who could give her what she
needed. Everything she needed.
The old, familiar pain
engulfed her heart. How could it still hurt so much after all these years? And
why on earth had she clicked so quickly last week on the site that was offering
Gifts of the Magi for sale…genuine gold, frankincense, and myrrh in a
wooden box? Did she really need this sad replica of something she had given
to her newborn daughter 18 years ago? Talk about pouring salt on the wound. Even
the smell of it reminded her of the child she had lost…and of what she stood to
lose, too. She didn’t want to jinx anything, just when she’d started to hope
again.
A slip of parchment paper
attached to the box caught her eye, and she began to read.
“The magi of old were learned men or kings who
studied the skies to predict the weather and, perhaps, foretell the future.
Legend has it that the imminent birth of One destined to become a king among
kings, the Christ child, was made known to them in the months leading up to
that event by means of a change in the stars. Forsaking other duties and
concerns, they made their way across many miles, guided by a brilliant new star
and bearing gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh to honor the babe. These
gifts, of considerable worth in the marketplace, were also believed to have
powers of healing both physical and spiritual. Their value was beyond price, a
powerful symbol of the bearers’ esteem and good will.”
Megan flushed with
satisfaction. Hers really had been the perfect gift for a birth mother to
give at parting: “a powerful symbol of
the bearer’s esteem and good will.” The serendipitous words comforted
Megan, and so did the double meaning they conveyed to her mind. She had been a
bearer twice over…first of little Merry and then of the gifts of love, tangible
and otherwise, she had sent with her. At least I managed to get something right back then, she thought. Maybe a few things. And Merry had
deserved them all.
Shaking her head firmly,
Megan stood up. She was due at the hospital, and her rounds wouldn’t wait.
Christmas was a hard time for her, and she frequently took extra shifts so
others could be with their families. Not that she and Craig weren’t a family,
too. They were, but the kids they were hoping for hadn’t arrived. She always
deferred to parents during the holidays. The corners of her mouth lifted
slightly. With any luck, soon she’d be one of them.
Her pulse settled into a
hopeful rhythm as she stepped outside and joined the holiday crowds. The
department stores downtown opened at 8 AM the entire week before Christmas, and
plenty of people took advantage of that before their workdays began. Megan
couldn’t help but smile at the brightly lit windows, decked in garlands and
bedazzled with toys, trains, and movable Santas. She even grinned at the
Salvation Army man as a wave of nostalgia prompted her to open her purse and
drop a donation in his bucket. What was it about the bells those people rang,
anyway? If their steady cadence didn’t call forth the spirit of Christmas,
nothing did. It was downright difficult not to get into the mix of things this
year, and maybe she would just embrace it, all of it. Every time she thought of
the nine embryos her IVF had yielded, a little bit of that believer she used to
be came back to her. Perhaps she hadn’t so much lost that part of herself as
put it away for a while…or channeled it into her patients. Were mothering
energy and doctoring energy really so different?
Her boots crunched the snow,
a pleasing sound that ended with a rush of warm air swooping her through the
hospital’s revolving door. St. Mary’s had been good to Megan. Over the years,
she’d made a kind of home there, for herself and for others. Maybe she could do
the same for one or two of those little embryos. Maybe she would have another
chance. Maybe this was…
As often happened, the head
nurse cut her off in mid-thought. “How’s my favorite doc?” she asked with
blustery good cheer. “Did your remember we need to get our kids into the rec
room early for the carols and crèche party today? The boys’ choir from St.
Joseph’s will be here at 11, and those cool bell ringers from last year are due
about the same time. Then we’ll have Father Tim say a few words and serve
lunch. What d’ya think? Are you on target for that??”
“You bet I am, Becky,” Megan
shot back, hoping that all of her patients would be well enough to join the
fun. Pediatric cancer patients needed all the fun they could get, and she
wanted to see them have it.
A couple of hours rushed by
as the good doctor flew from room to room, dispensing the loving care that made
sick patients feel better and worried parents hold themselves together. It was
a tall order, but Megan filled it in a hurry, updated a few charts, and got
herself down to the rec room to enjoy the festivities.
The boys had already begun
to sing, their childish voices reminiscent of the angels they celebrated so
sweetly. The First Noel was her favorite
carol, and she listened with special interest for the second verse, which had
been running through her head of late. “They
look-ed up and saw a star, shining in the east beyond them far…and to the earth
it gave great light, and so it continued both day and night. Noel, Noel, Noel,
Noel. Born is the King of Israel.”
Almost like a reflex,
Megan’s eyes searched the high-beamed ceiling. The wise men had taken a leap of
faith and followed that star, day in and day out, to wherever it took them.
Hope was their vanguard…and their beacon. They did not let fears and
uncertainty encumber them; they did not carry with them their burdens of shame
and loss. Rather, they bore gifts…priceless gifts, beyond valuation. Gold,
frankincense, and myrrh…the gifts she had instinctively given her own daughter,
with all they symbolized. In a flash of clarity, Megan knew she would follow
her dream of motherhood to its completion, wherever it took her, whatever it
cost. For she would come bearing gifts as well… to any child. She always had. It was her nature.
With a sense of peace, she
focused her attention on Father Tim, who was reciting the words to an old
English lullaby. Not surprisingly, it touched her heart…a mother’s heart.
Low in a manger, dear little stranger,
Jesus the wonderful Savior was born;
None to receive Him, none to believe Him,
None but the angels watching that morn.
Dear little stranger, slept in a manger,
No downy pillow under his head;
But with the poor, he slumbered secure,
Dear little babe in his bed.
Angels descending, over him bending,
Chanted a tender and silent refrain,
Wonderful story of his glory
Unto the shepherds on Bethlehem’s plain.
Dear little stranger, born in a manger,
Maker and Monarch and Savior of all.
Love thee forever; Grieve thee, no, never;
Thou didst for me make thy bed in a stall.
Dear Little Stranger, Megan thought fondly. Like Mary of old, she had
borne a Christmas child, a dear little stranger whose destiny was to bless the
lives of others. The Baby Jesus had not belonged to His earthly mother; He had
belonged to God…and to the world. In a sense, wasn’t the same true of every
child? Even her little Merry? Megan had carried her for nine months and given
her life. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.
Father Tim concluded the
Christmas crèche as he always did, with those well-loved verses from the gospel
of Luke. Hearing them, Megan’s spirit resonated with every joy and sorrow the
season offered her…from grief to gratitude…from empty cradle to newborn king.
And this year, from empty womb to nine, potentially viable embryos. The miracle
of Christmas was alive and well:
“And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree
from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed. (And all went to be
taxed, every one into his own city.) And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out
of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; To be taxed with
Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the
days were accomplished that she should be delivered. And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped
him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room
for them in the inn And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping
watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them,
and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel
said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all
people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord And
this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.
And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising
God, and saying, Glory God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.”
Arriving at her door in the
dark of early evening, Megan nearly tripped over the last of her Black Friday
purchases. Why did those deliverymen always leave her packages in full view of
the street? That UPS guy dropped it right on the doormat, every time. Realizing
she sounded like the Grinch and wanting to hold on to the Christmas spirit
she’d been feeling all the way home, Meg took a deep breath. With conscious
intent, she savored the aroma of snow-covered evergreens and wood smoke that
characterized her neighborhood in December, allowing what was probably
misplaced tension to melt away like snowflakes. Reaching down to retrieve the
box, Megan arrived at grateful. She’d been worrying that her sister’s watch
wasn’t going to arrive in time for Christmas, wishing she’d upgraded the
shipping. Now she could just wrap the thing up and relax!
Turning on the light to
survey her prize, she felt puzzled, then uneasy. There was a note attached, and
the first line made her glad Craig was on his way home.
“I’ve been following you around the hospital for
almost a week now, feeling closer to you every day. I haven’t had the nerve to
speak to you, but I’ve wanted to…more times than you can imagine. Watching your beautiful face as you
smile at the children makes me want you to smile at me, too. I feel like I’ve
been waiting to meet you forever.
I know this is the perfect time to make myself known.
But I want to respect your wishes as well, which is why I have left this little
gift at your door. If it makes you happy, call me at the number listed below. I
will be close by, waiting.
PS. My mom always reminds me that I am a Christmas
baby. I turned 18 yesterday, so I didn’t really need her permission to come.
She knows I’m here, though. When she first gave me the box, she told me the
story of the Magi and their gifts and promised I could follow my own star to
find you one day. Merry Christmas.”
The warming scent of frankincense
was strong in the air when Merry’s birth mother raised the faded lid, worn
smooth from the touch of her daughter’s hands. Megan’s own fingers trembled
with wonder as she drew its familiar treasures close to her heart. Gold, frankincense, and myrrh. The real
thing, in a gilded box.
But anyone could see that
the old box wasn’t gilded at all. It was gold, pure gold.
~ the end ~
No two people travel the
same road in life. All of us take our convoluted journeys, with twists and
turns that are hard to navigate. Sometimes we don’t understand the directions
our lives are taking, and it can be difficult to see the top of the next hill,
let alone the distant horizon. It takes faith and hope to press on.
The wise men had faith and
hope that if they followed the brightest star in the heavens they would find
their way to Jesus, and their faith was rewarded.
We need hope and faith to reach
our destinations, too. Some of them are shorter trips, like finishing school,
getting married, finding a new job, or having a baby. But the long-haul
destination is the same for all of us. We are headed home…back to where we came
from…and we all have what it takes to get there.
Christmas reminds us why we all have what it takes to get
there, because of the birth, life, and atonement of Jesus Christ, His greatest
gift to us.
What other gifts has He given to you this year?
What gift will you give to Him in the year to come?
(As you can see, at the close of this story I included our circletime question from Christmas Eve. I wanted you to catch a glimpse of how we do our celebration, in case you are interested in trying out our favorite tradition. First, I read the story, then ask the question. Each family member, in turn, responds. It is a beautiful way to spend the night before Christmas!)
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