By Steve Horton

(Note: I wrote this essay 21 years ago about the arrival of our son, Bradley. This past Oct. 31 he became a legal adult so, for no other good reason than this recent rite of passage... for him and his parents... I'm offering this re-visit.)

The birth of an infant stands always as the centerpiece of our annual Christmas celebration. Whether that event holds a profound religious significance for you or whether you view this holiday on more secular terms, the Christmas Story still looms large above the rest of the trappings that accompany this special season.

There is the delight of Santa and his reindeer, the various customs like decorating trees and hanging mistletoe, the enjoyment of family and friends at such events as dinners or caroling or concerts. We have all kinds of stories and shows that add to the richness of this tradition – be it Dr. Seuss or Dickens’ Christmas Carol or Miracle on 34th Street.

We recall Virginia’s letter about Santa or re-read Clement Moore’s ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas or hear the singing of “Silent Night” whenever our Christmas Spirit needs some rekindling. And we all have those many individual memories and family customs that give December its unique magic.

But always, above it all, superseding it all, encompassing it all is the fact that “a child is born”.

My wife Dawn and I had a child born on Halloween night, a baby boy, and so this Christmas season and its story of birth are extra special. The arrival of a newborn, followed by the caring and tending of his basic needs, is consuming both physically and mentally. His cycles of feeding, changing diapers, cleaning and sleeping become your routine. You soon begin to bend him a little toward your established schedule, but the changes he has brought to it are lasting and overwhelming.

While involved in that cycle, you watch and feel your baby grow and mature. You wonder at his wide-eyed stare and what it is he’s soaking in, and you wonder at his cries and what it is he’s struggling against. Time is measured in days, with each day bringing more curiosity and individual personality, and you realize how fleeting our time is and how important it is to enjoy what you have now rather than spend it worrying about the future or worse yet, thinking tomorrow holds something more magical than today.

We, to the best of our knowledge and knock very hard on wood, have a healthy, active baby. It’s certainly a cliché, but when all is said and done that condition is very important. You see and hear about newborns who are physically or mentally impaired or struck by some disease and know how lucky you are. And, even though you know worrying about the future is usually fruitless, you can’t help but hope that your baby’s tomorrows are equally blessed with good health.

You also wonder a bit - – when you look down at your sleeping infant –-  at what kind of world he’ll grow up in and what kind of life he’ll be facing after he matures. It’s easy to prepare for the short-term and focus on one’s hearth and home, and do your best to protect and provide. But there’s uncertainty and uneasiness when you consider the long-term and wider world, because you have so little control or influence on its shape and movement.

You know that one day you’ll be casting your son into life, like wheat chaff into the breeze, and watching it take him slowly away from your arms. It makes you want to hold onto the present moments, these first days and nights of his new life, that much harder.

You also wonder at what kind of a person Mom and Dad, the rest of his family and friends, will raise. You know he’ll have his folks’ physical characteristics. But which ideas, attitudes, hopes, aspirations, and codes of honor will he take on, and which will he reject? Can you give him “the best” of what you have, point him to places beyond where you reached and touched? Or will he also inherit the weaknesses and frailties of your own and society’s character?

As new parents these thoughts, questions, and speculations come easily and naturally. They must be as much a part of having and raising a baby as the milk bottle, the diaper pins, the late-night cries, and the adorable expressions.

Collectively, as people, similar thoughts, questions, and speculations return to us during this holiday season as we recall the Christmas Story. How was this past year? Did we do “the best” we could? What lies ahead? Can we do better with ourselves and with our world?

“Fear not,” the angel told the shepherds, “for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.”

A child is born. Life continues. Hope, and all its opportunities and possibilities, is renewed.