“Mom, we lost baby Jesus. I can’t find him anywhere!” You’d think this statement would have come from one of my kids, but no, it was me, a 30-something grown-up, calling my mom to cry about a missing Fisher-Price toy. Somehow among the decorating, baking, shopping, wrapping, running to dozens of “can’t miss” events—not to mention the everyday tasks of laundry, cleaning the house, and feeding my crew (THREE TIMES EVERY DAY! They’re so demanding!), baby Jesus was missing! Is he in with the Nerf guns? Did one of the kids stick him down a heating vent? What if the dog got to him? What if the dog ATE baby Jesus??? Surely this was some sort of commentary on my spiritual life, not to mention the example I was setting for my children.
Read the full post at The Worthy Walk.