Nativity Memories

Happy podcast Tuesday! We bring your Christmas greetings, tales of our sledding this past weekend, memories of our favorite gifts from our childhood, and a throwback to my first ever moment on radio. {I was just a baby!} Merry Christmas from Spill the Beans!

Click here to listen.

 I had the opportunity to join a writer's group earlier this year, and it allows me to not only do some additional writing to share in areas beyond this blog, but it has given me the chance to meet new friends that have encouraged me!

This week, I was emailing back and forth with a couple of my new friends, responding to a writing prompt that I thought was just for fun, but when I got done, I decided I might want to share it with you! :) It seemed fitting in this week leading up to Christmas. Maybe as you read along, you'll think of decorations in your own home {Nativities or otherwise} that hold special meaning!

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The blessing and curse of being the much-youngest in a family is that your life is filled with hand-me-downs. It's a blessing, because you are gifted with things you could not otherwise afford, but a curse because you have no say in what you receive - or perhaps, what you don't. You just smile gratefully and accept the gifts sent your way.

The ceramics craze of the 80's piqued my mother's interests and provided the only craft hobby I ever remember her taking up in her now-80 years. Each Christmas, she would make a gift for all the ladies of the family. Everyone had to open their gifts simultaneously because they all matched, but they were all received with much joy.

And I missed out on every one of them. 

I was still in elementary school and it was completely impractical to paint house decor for a ten year old, so I opened boxes of books, dolls, and other age-appropriate treasures while my sisters, cousins, aunt, and grandma opened their matching ceramic gifts.

When my great-grandma died at the age of 100 even (her goal, and she didn't over-achieve), my grandma cleaned out her nursing home room and distributed all her remaining belongings among the family members. The rule of thumb was to give each item back to the original giver. And so it was that Mom got back the green shiny tree with plastic bulbs and the white-with-pearl-glaze Holy Family she'd painted for Gran. Since she'd made one of each for herself already, she boxed them up and put them away for my someday.

That's how I came to catch up with the family on owning the ceramic treasures, and for years, it was the only sort of Nativity I owned. Mary and Joseph were one ceramic piece, buried beneath flowing robes that spread out, apparently, to cover the manger, and a tiny baby Jesus nestled in the ceramic cove. To be fair, He was glued in, because ceramic robes are slippery and He'd have fallen right out without the dab of super glue.

Five years ago, now, I flew to Kansas for Thanksgiving, to spend the holiday with my sister and brother-in-law. The day after Thanksgiving in a town of less than 2000 doesn't offer much in the way of Black Friday sales, but it does make for charming local shopping at little stores, and we toured the town before coming back to decorate the house for Christmas. It was in the one little decor-holding store that I found it: a little resin nativity scene that reminded me so much of The Best Christmas Pageant Ever, a book my mom read me every year when I was little.

To be fair, the kids in this Nativity looked a whole lot more serene than the Herdman bunch, but there was something about it that I found irresistible. Mary is sitting down, legs straight out in front of her, cradling that Baby without any danger of dropping Him. Joseph is in overalls and a turtleneck, keeping a careful watch over Mary and the Baby. The angel's socks are slouching, the shepherd's head is glued on {run-in with the floor, I imagine, back on the store shelves}, and the three wise men are wearing towel capes and carry the dearest of toys: a block, a truck, and a train engine.

Not the most biblically accurate in the world, but it reminds me so much of the truth of childlike faith and the great lessons from that book I loved so much, that I had to have them. The store wrapped them carefully for me, and they made it through the flight home without further damage.

I love that little set and put it out with much joy every year.

Of course there is always the dream for a more sophisticated, grown-up Nativity, like a Willow Tree set or some other such treasure. But in the meantime, these hold dear meaning, and for that I am grateful.