Dearest Cam
It’s sometime after midnight and I can’t
sleep. Scott has tonsillitis and I have things on my mind. So I’m in the lounge
with an annoying moth who is loving my laptop screen and there are Christmas lights
in the window and I’m thinking and writing to you.
Anyway.
Tonight was the Christmas production at
church. A big chunk of the evening was the hilarious chaos of dozens of toddlers
making their way to Bethlehem. The concept of a nativity tableau is lost on
three year olds. So this was more like nativity pandemonium. When it was time
for the star (Shannon, in a golden-yellowy dress) to lead the wise men to baby
Jesus, Aunty Joy coaxed her to centre stage with, ‘Come on, Star, you’re the
star of the show!’ At which point a small, unspeakably cute shepherd (you)
protested, ‘No! I’m the star of the
show!’ Later, sans your gown and dish
cloth, you were being rhythmically cute on your conga drum, with the whole
Reyburn family yodelling pa rum pa pum pum
behind you. People were crying and laughing, because you did fantastically well
(and possibly because our rendition of the Little Drummer Boy was particularly bad).
Somehow, bits of the evening just aren’t
sitting well with me. I think I’ve processed it down to Two Things We Both Need
To Remember:
Thing
Number 1:
Always look at life with big-picture perspective.
I went into your room just now to check
on you. (I have this paranoid mom thing that I do when one of you is sick. I go
into your room and check that both your little chests are gently heaving with
deep soft night time breaths. I wonder how old you’ll have to be before I trust
you to keep breathing on your own all night.) I stood by your bed for a bit,
looking at the world map on the wall in the dim light from the passage. I considered
how many nations – how many millions – billions? – of people across the globe
celebrate Christmas. I wondered how many tiny shepherds with dish cloths on
their heads are performing in Christmas nativity plays all over the world in
these Advent weeks. And to think that I am mom to the cutest shepherd on planet
Earth!? J Of course, all the millions of moms to all the millions of
shepherds think that theirs is the
cutest and cleverest. Which is good to remember.
Thing
Number 2:
Our greatest strengths can become our
greatest weaknesses.
From before you could walk or talk we
were profoundly aware that you were not lacking in confidence or talent when it
came to imagination, music and the performing arts in general (that is, if you
consider tantrums to be part of the performing arts). My fervent prayer has
been that from an early age God would place in your heart a real desire to use
your gifts to bring glory to him, and an acute awareness that we have nothing that we did not receive (1
Corinthians 4:7).
I suppose I worry that people see the adorable
shepherd with the charming bifocals, impeccable rhythm and dazzling smile, but
that they don’t see beyond that – to the Messiah who creates and heals and rains
grace and who has a plan when all we see is pain and impossibility and who
carves out each of our journeys so uniquely to reflect his glory.
What I’m saying, my boy, is live out
your giftedness – live it out loud – and never apologise for it. But always, always let it be simultaneously tempered
and heightened by dependency on God and the kind of humility that attracts
people to the light of Christ. Never take yourself too seriously. Take Jesus
very seriously. I was just aware tonight of how quickly something that should
be all about God can become all about us. How something that should attract
people to Jesus can instead push them away. Tonight you weren’t being arrogant;
just honest. You weren’t aware of how amazing you are. You were just enjoying
being you. But when you’re old enough to read this and understand it your
talents might be overwhelming you with the temptation to take some of the glory.
And I guess I just want you to remember that the glory is all God’s.
I love you with my whole heart,
Mom
xx
PS: I do still think you are the cutest
shepherd in the world.
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