advent, babies, and thoughts on peace

Dear Milo,

You don't understand it, but it's Christmastime. You love the tree. And the lights. And you seem to like the Pandora Christmas station.

But, Milo. I want to tell you about my favorite part of Christmas.

It's called Advent. Advent is a time of waiting. And preparing. And hoping. (Last Christmas, we were waiting, preparing, and hoping for you!)

Last Sunday, Christians around the world celebrated the second Sunday of Advent and lit the candle of peace.

At our church, the young adult group hosted a group of folks from the Multicultural Mosaic Foundation in Denver. A group of Muslims, men and women, came to our church to speak about Islam and their organizational efforts to build peace through dialogue and education. (i.e. They take time to travel to Christian churches and Jewish synagogues to prove that Muslims aren't scary.)

Our young adult group invited other Sunday School classes to attend as well and, at 9:30 a.m., the room was full.

My stomach was in knots. I knew what kind of questions the young adults would ask, but I had no idea what kinds of questions the other folks would ask. I didn't want to be embarrassed. I didn't want to offend our Muslim guests.

In addition to worrying about the questions that would be asked, I had to worry about you. Sunday School is smack dab in the middle of when you should be napping, but I'm too chicken to put you in the nursery and Daddy was working.

I was right. People asked questions that embarrassed me. But Ismail and Andrea and the other friends from MMF didn't bat an eyelash. They responded to the questions with patience and grace. More patience and grace than we deserved.

(Afterward, I asked Ismail if he gets tired of answering the same questions over and over again and having to defend his faith. He said, yes, it is tiring, but it is necessary. He said he hopes that someday he won't have to travel to churches and defend Islam. That is my hope, too.)

But I was wrong about you. You were perfect. Even though you were exhausted, you didn't make a peep.

And when the class was over, the Muslim women hustled over to you and oohed and ahhed over you. And you put on quite the show. You let one of the mamas hold you and smiled your gigantic, toothless grin. One of the women was pregnant and is having a baby boy in February. I told her baby boys were wonderful and we talked about where she is going to deliver.

I realized that motherhood is capable of transcending lots and lots of boundaries. All mamas love their babies and want what's best for them.

And Milo, I looked at you with pride and joy. I ached for Ismail, Andrea, and the mamas who were holding you because building peace must be oh so exhausting. But on the day we lit a candle of peace, I looked at you. My little 16-pound peacemaker. And I felt like I have reason to hope.

Love,

Mama