It's Christmas!

Jesus was once a teeny-tiny baby who had to learn to laugh.

He was swaddled in a "receiving blanket" so he wouldn't startle himself with his flailing arms and legs.

Mary probably tucked a curl of his hair behind his ear and pondered the shape of his earlobe.

The King of Glory cried in a wet diaper because his parents were too busy to notice he had soiled himself.

Before his parents were ready, he announced to them, "I can do it myself!"

It's astounding to me to look at my sweet little girl and think that my God was that little once. That his mom may have checked to make sure he was still breathing. That his dad would have held him close and let him fall asleep on his chest. That he gave up all Heaven holds to come down and suffer the indignity of gas pains. Of learning to walk. Of sneezing.

My little boy thinks hard to come up with words to tell us what's on his mind. Jesus knew Wonders Mysterious, yet might have asked "Who this made?" Did he call his mom "sweetheart'?

Christmas is such a magical time of year. And yet there's no magic involved. A tiny baby was born. His mom cried to see how beautiful he was. And because she was glad she wasn't pregnant anymore. Everything was so normal. But he'd grow to change what the word 'normal' meant.