A Christmas post I wrote in 2009....

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

Come let us Adore Him

Christmas changed for me in 1986. I was in the sixth grade, and 11 years old. It was Christmas Eve day. I have always loved the day before Christmas. There is so much anticipation - that the actual Christmas day seemed anti-climatic. My Father had just been recovering from pneumonia and said he need to go lay down.
I remember the conversation. He was sitting at the kitchen table. My Mom had offered to fix him some lunch and he said that his stomach was still a little upset - and that he was tired. I was on the floor, under the Christmas tree, rearranging my presents for the fortieth time.
The next thing I remember is hearing him yell for my Mom, and then there was a long silence before my Mom yelled "Call 911!" We lived in a very small town, so within five minutes, there were lights, noise, and people in our house. I sat in the living room while they rolled my Father out the door on a gurney. For years, I could not get that image out of my head. He had a brain aneurysm. He lived. But he was left with brain damage, legally blind, and unable to walk in a straight line. I am sure he had many private struggles, that as a young girl, I never saw.
I went from loving Christmas, to dreading it. I came to fear that something would happen to my family members. I walked around through the whole season, with my body tensed - ready for what I was sure was going to happen - everything I loved would be taken from me. I eventually lost my Father to cancer seven years later. So to me that was proof. I was right. Nothing was guaranteed.
I felt this way for years. Even after I was married and had children, I was just want to get the holiday over with.
I had grown up in the Church, I had a strong testimony - I did everything I was supposed to do. But Heavenly Father knew about this stalemate I had going on in my heart, and he was determined to root it out. After I gave birth to my third child, Porter, I had a terrible bout of postpartum depression. It was in these, my darkest hours, that the Lord taught me about forgiveness, love, and that I needed to trust him. I learned that trusting him was crucial to my mission on this earth. I had been fore-ordained to do certain things, and he was not going to let me fail.
One day, I was folding laundry and I flipped on the BYU channel. Russell M. Nelson was giving a talk about the Savior. There was one thing he said in that talk that began to change things for me. He was describing the "swaddling clothes" the Baby Jesus was wrapped in. He explained that they would have been strips of cloth, wrapped tightly around the infant. They would have had family markings on them to identify which family he belonged to. The Jewish people regarded this swaddling as sacred. My mind immediately starting connecting the dots of doctrine that I had learned over the years. I grabbed my scriptures and started reading in Luke. Through my scripture study the spirit opened my eyes, and I began to see the Christmas Story differently. I understood that his birth was a foreshadowing of the Atonement, Crucifixion, and Resurrection. The suffering Mary endured in labor, the gushing of water, the birth of the Savior. It represented the pattern he would later follow. The swaddling clothes- the sacred binding cloths, symbolized Temple ordinances and being sealed as a family. The gifts that the Wise Men brought from the East, were used for healing, and anointing the body. On the Salt Lake Temple, stars represent the saving power of the priesthood. The star used as a sign for the Saviors Birth, signified the priesthood ordinances that save, and bring peace to our hearts. Just as Mary entered Bethlehem riding on a donkey, later the Savior would also be riding a donkey as he entered Jerusalem for the final scenes of his earthly ministry. He was born in a stable, or a cave cut out of rock. Later his burial would be in a tomb cut out of the rock. Again, he would be wrapped in sacred clothing, washed and anointed. He was placed in a manger, or a trough used to feed animals. When the baby Jesus was placed in it - it represented an alter. An alter formally used for animals, now the baby sent to fulfill and abolish animal sacrifices.
What I realized is, that what I had learned as a child as the Christmas story, was so much more than I realized. It symbolized the Temple. The gospel in its fullness, with every ordinance that I would need to return to the presence of my Heavenly Father. In Bethlehem at the birth of the Savior, shepard's, angels, and wise men came from all reaches of the earth to Adore him. After his resurrection he invited others to Behold the markings on his hands and feet. Now just as those people received their invitation, we are asked to to the same. To Adore him, Behold him, and Worship him in sacred temples. Just as a young shepard boy likely knelt at his manger, I at two years old, knelt at the alter of the Provo Temple with my family. I was sealed to my Father. There WERE guarantees. I would see him again. Not only that, but as I attended the Temple - and learned more about the teachings there - my heart would find peace. I would be healed. It was a story that did indeed contain "Good tidings of Great Joy." I have experienced in large measure the extent of that healing, and I again LOVE Christmas. Not like I did when I was a child, but with a deep reverence, and with so much gratitude for my Heavenly Father and Savior Jesus Christ.