Away in a Manger

 Last Sunday we had a special sacrament meeting where church members were invited to come up, share a favorite Christmas hymn, and then we all would sing it together.  It's amazing how music always brings such a special spirit, especially when focused on our Savior.

I wanted to share a hymn but we ran out of time, so I thought I would here instead.  

I've long loved the Christmas carol, Away in a Manger.  The imagery is beautiful and the melody sweet.  I like how there are multiple versions, including the Primary song with it's additional chorus of sustained asleeeeeeep asleeps.  I can easily imagine a mother singing this to her children on Christmas eve with hopes that they will finally close their excited eyes and rest.  The final stanza is particularly tender when all who sing address our Lord directly.  "Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask thee to stay Close by me forever, and love me I pray."

But this is where the hymn stopped being my favorite.  "Bless all the dear Children in Thy tender care, and fit us for heaven to live with thee there."  I have such intense memories of sitting in the small auditorium/chapel of Primary Children's last Christmas and sobbing while this carol was sung.  While I certainly desired blessings for my child, I did not want to send my daughter her to heaven.  I desperately wanted her here; I needed her here.

At the time I wondered if I would ever feel joy at Christmas again.

Over the past year I have had a lot of time to reflect on that moment.  It marks the beginning of a personal faith journey where I've had to stop and take a hard, cold look at the reality of death, facing not only my own mortality, but even more challenging, that of those I love.  I prayed soooo hard for God to save my child.  It's easy to see the blessings and miracles since everything worked out the way I wanted.  But what if it hadn't?  Could I still have faith?

So many times throughout the year I have stopped and thought, how could I ever do this if Annika were not here?  Could I decorate the tree?  How would it feel to pull out gems like this ornament, created by her just last season?  

What about her hundred stuffies?  The ward Christmas party?  And for that matter, what about attending church if she had passed away on those very steps?

In these moments of reflection, I worry about my other children.  They too deserve a happy childhood with a mother who is whole and present.  Would I have completely fallen apart?  (The answer is yes, most assuredly.  As it is, Brooklyn rightly observed that I cry a lot.)  Thinking about them, I feel even more gratitude for Annika's miracle.

But what about the families who don't receive the blessings they so deeply desire?  Does God love them less?  Certainly not.  If Annika had died, could our family move on?

For me, the answer lies is faith: an active faith that is so desperately needed that it becomes tangible instead of an ephemeral concept.  If I truly believe, then I must accept that death is just as essential as birth for God's plan of happiness.  Do I have faith that God is present and heaven really is there?  Do I trust God enough to believe that he loves my children as much as I do and will care for them even better than I can?

These questions are big, but I'm making progress on this faith journey.  I want my children to know that should the unthinkable ever happen to any of us, their mom will not fall apart (at least not for too long.)  We have been sealed as a family and made covenants in the temple that bind us together beyond this life.  The grave is not the end.

We all can feel hope--hope and joy--because of the birth of a babe.  Because of Jesus, we all will live again.  Away in a Manger is once again my favorite carol.  Be near me Lord Jesus, I ask Thee to stay close by me forever and love me I pray.  Bless all the dear children in thy tender care.  And yes, please, fit us for heaven to live with Thee there.