A mother's love helps us understand—at least in a measure—the love of Him who left heaven to be born at Bethlehem, leaving behind everything, giving His life that we might have life.

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
(John 1:14)

It happened on Christmas Eve in 1952. Korea had been decimated by war. There was no food, and it was bitterly cold as a young woman, almost nine months pregnant, staggered through the snow toward the home of a missionary whom she believed would help her. Bak Yoon's husband had been killed fighting with the ROK army, and she was desperate. To reach the missionary's home, Bak Yoon had to cross a bridge spanning a gully, but before she could cross, this young woman doubled over in pain. No, this was not where she wanted to have the baby, but she could not muster strength to go on, and there was no one who could help.

In desperation she crawled under the bridge, thinking that in a few moments the pain would pass and she could go on. Little did she know that there, alone, under the bridge she would give birth to a son. But the mother, never thinking that this is how her child would be born, had nothing to wrap around him, but with a mother's great love, Bak Yoon first removed her outer coat, then her padded trousers, wrapping the baby in them, then rested, falling asleep from her intense labor and weakness.

The next morning a missionary, a Miss Watson, drove across that bridge to deliver food to a needy family when her car sputtered and died. She was out of gas, and her irritation showed. "There's nothing to do but walk," she thought and started across the bridge when she heard a faint cry.

"No, it couldn't be a baby," she thought, but a woman knows the cry of an infant. "Yes, it was coming from under the bridge. Quickly, she crawled under the bridge, and to her great surprise, she found a newborn, umbilical cord still attached to the mother who had never wakened from her unending sleep. Mother Watson, as she was called, adopted the baby and named him Soo Park.

In spite of the number of children who were in the orphanage she ran, this child was always special. She would tell her adopted son, "Your mother had great love for you, Soo Park," and remind him of how she had found him, which she believed was an act of God because had her car run out of gas either sooner or later, inevitably the little child would have died with his mother.

On his twelfth birthday, which was also Christmas day, Soo Park asked to visit his mother's grave, and Mother Watson took him to the grave, covered with snow. Quietly the boy knelt and removed his coat, then his trousers, laying them on her grave. "What is he doing?" she thought. She waited a moment, then put her gloved hand on his shoulder, "Come, Soo Park," she said. "You mother in Heaven sees how much you love her. I will help you dress."

Then he cried out to the mother he never knew, "Were you colder than this for me, my mother?" and wept bitterly.

Is there anything greater than a mother's love? Is there? Surely God Himself touched that mother's heart with His greater love.

A mother's love helps us understand—at least in a measure—the love of Him who left heaven to be born at Bethlehem, leaving behind everything, giving His life that we might have life.

The story which I related today is true, and none of the details have been changed. Christmas is about the gift of God's Son, who touched our lives at tremendous cost, giving us what we did not deserve, which none can ever take from us. In our lowest moments we can receive the touch of His love and know He too has been where we are. (Source: "The Short Circuit," a student publication of Asbury Theological Seminary, Volume 86, Dec. 6, 1986, No. 11).

Resource reading: 1 Samuel 1:1-20.