February 5

What Simeon Saw

                Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon; this man was righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Messiah. Guided by the Spirit, Simeon came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him what was customary under the law, Simeon took him in his arms and praised God, saying,

“Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel.”

And the child’s father and mother were amazed at what was being said about him. Then Simeon blessed them and said to his mother Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.”

Luke 2:25-35

            Mary and Joseph knew their son was special.  There were the shepherds and Elizabeth and the visits from angels and the miraculous conception that all pointed to this child being unique among humanity.  But at just over one month, he didn’t look like a king.  He looked like a baby…a tiny, needy, smelly baby and they were young, first-time parents trying to figure out how to keep the baby alive and happy. 

            When we brought my son home for the very first time, my wife and I shared a “What do we do now?” moment as we tried to figure out why he was crying.  We were so tired and he was so small and fragile.  We tried feeding him which didn’t work.  We tried changing him…which we were incredibly clumsy at so he cried even harder.  We tried talking and singing…and finally realized that he was cold.  A couple of blankets and some snuggles and he contentedly went to sleep.  My wife and I looked at each other with panic as we wondered whether we were actually the worst parents ever.

            Throughout every stage of his development, we have asked ourselves that same question.  When he started to become mobile, we realized that our house was a series of booby traps designed to crush fingers and gash heads.  Our first big road trip, we discovered that our car did not have adequate air conditioning.  Little boy was cooking in the back seat…which meant that his first solid food ever was a frozen rocket popsicle from the gas station.

            The crazy thing about your first born children is that you have nothing to compare them to.  Over and over as our son grew we wondered to ourselves about how he was different from other kids that we saw and we asked each other, “Maybe this is the kind of kid that comes from the two of us?” 

            And then comes a voice from the outside, confirming the uniqueness of your child.  It could come in the form of a teacher, a friend, a doctor or your parents.  For Mary and Joseph it was a priest of the temple who saw the special nature of the boy.  The words were comforting to the new parents as their assumptions were confirmed.  They were also chilling as Simeon told of the pain that was coming to the child’s life as well.

            Our official diagnosis came through a doctor that we had to travel to visit.  There was no autism specialist in our home town so my son and I hopped on a plane and flew to see the doctor.  Since we were in a new space, the boy did not sleep that night.  We filled out volumes of paperwork and went through some communication assessments.  When we actually got in to see the doctor, my son had worn himself out and fallen asleep.  The doctor asked some questions and he and I talked through what our daily life was like.  My boy received a conclusive diagnosis without ever being awake to see the doctor.

            There was comfort in the doctor’s words as it confirmed that we were not crazy, or the worst parents in the world, and that we were actually seeing what we thought we were seeing.  The doctor’s words also held dread and put a ball of ice into my stomach.  This was not a phase.  This was not something that would just be grown out of.  My son’s life would involve therapy and struggle and isolation.  Guaranteed.  Comfort and despair mixed and mingled in my heart, permanently intertwined.

            Simeon saw the child’s future and praised God.  His parents did the same thing, filled with awe and wonder.  May we be able to follow in their footsteps.

A moment to reflect:

Who told you about your child’s diagnosis?  How did you respond?