The Nativity Set by Carol Harrison

                                                              

I hurried into the department store, glad to be out of the bitterly cold December weather. Just inside the store I stopped at a display of nativity sets. Bins of individual figurines sat beside the shelves holding the complete sets. My Christmas shopping list quickly disappeared from my mind as I stared longingly at the display.

I had always wanted to have a nativity set as part of my Christmas decorations. Yet years of holidays had come and gone and owning my own set remained nothing more than a desire. I always told myself that someday I would get one. I just didn't know when. Usually all the sets I saw and liked were beyond my budget. The most beautiful ones were delicate and breakable which would have been impractical in a house with children.

But the prices attached to these bins were affordable. My hopes soared as I began sorting through the containers of pretty yet unbreakable pieces. I started wondering if I could find all the figures needed to make up a complete nativity set. Excitedly I picked up Mary, Joseph and baby Jesus. Next I pulled out a few different shepherds and three unique wise men. Then I found a donkey, sheep and even camels. Finally I discovered an angel. I put them all into my shopping cart and began searching the shelves for a stable but all of them were part of full sets. Undaunted I completed the rest of my shopping and purchased all the affordable figures. I could keep looking for an inexpensive stable or get someone to nail a few rough boards together to represent one.

Eagerly I headed home with all my Christmas surprises and treasures. Later that afternoon I gathered the children around the Christmas tree and began to tell them about Mary, Joseph and Baby Jesus while I placed them under the tree. Then I told them about the shepherds on the hillside and the choir of angels who announced the birth of the Christ child. I added the shepherds and a few sheep to my display while I told how they eagerly hurried to Bethlehem to see this amazing event for themselves. I stood the angel close by, as if watching protectively everyone surrounding the manger. I told them about the wise men who came from the East to worship the new born King and added three figures along with their camels. Finally I placed the donkey and cow behind the holy family to complete the scene. My youngest watched every move.

As I finished telling the story my three older children scattered to activities that more fully captured their interest. I headed to the kitchen to make supper but glanced back to admire my new, long waited for nativity set. I saw my two-year old, special needs daughter lying on her tummy staring intently at the scene. I continued to watch quietly for a couple minutes. Soon her little hand reached out and began to rearrange each piece. Baby Jesus remained in the centre but she moved Mary and Joseph even closer. Then she moved the shepherds, sheep, wise men and camels until all were crowded around the manger holding the baby. Finally she turned them until all were gazing in adoration at Jesus. Completing her task she got up, noticed me and smiled before coming to take my hand and pull me toward the Christmas tree. She possessed an almost negligible vocabulary but no words were needed to let me know how important this set already was to her. I realized she understood the Christmas story she listened to repeatedly at Sunday school and at home.

Each day, until we put the decorations away after New Year’s, she spent time lying in front of the Christmas tree looking at or rearranging the pieces. Baby Jesus always remained the central figure. I enjoyed watching this often repeated task and the huge smiles that always accompanied it. Several more years disappeared before I found a little, rough wooden stable to add to the scene but that didn't seem to matter to her. All she needed to act out the Bible story of Christmas were the figures themselves.

The years passed and each year my youngest daughter eagerly waited for the Christmas decorations to fill the house. She thoroughly loved this holiday season. Smiles wreathed her face especially when the nativity set made its appearance under the tree. It became her self-appointed job to arrange it until she was satisfied that all eyes were on the baby in the manger. She also continued to sit and listen to the Christmas story from the gospel of Luke as many times as someone would read it to her.

Tasks that we often take for granted proved difficult for her to learn to do. By the time she turned ten she had finally learned to read and received a children's Bible as her Christmas gift. As soon as she opened it she brought it to me so I could show her where to find the Christmas story. Over and over she read the words all by herself. This brought her so much pleasure and filled my eyes with tears of joy.

My children grew up and the oldest three married. Our family continued to expand with the addition of grandchildren. It had become our family tradition for my youngest daughter to arrange the nativity set under the tree each Christmas, a chore she relished. If anyone moved it around she'd go over and gently replace all the figures to her liking. One year as I took out the all the decorations, I wondered if the time had come to upgrade the nativity set to a fancier one. While we decorated the house I voiced my thoughts only to quickly be met with total rejection by my youngest daughter.

“A new fancy one will be breakable. How will all the nieces and nephews play out the Christmas story? They have to be able to play with it and move them around. You have to keep this set. It has to go under the tree.” she said with a worried look on her face.

I realized the intensity of her desire for my grandchildren to have the opportunity to enjoy the simple pleasures she had experienced year after year and I gave in. The original set stayed.

Over the years I have added other decorations that depict the Christmas story from the Bible. Yet none of them holds the special place in her heart that my original purchase does. This first visual representation, which made the story come alive for her, needs to remain part of our family tradition. My desire for a nativity set had a wonderful ripple effect within my family, but mostly with my youngest, which continues to surprise and amaze me.

Carol Harrison loves the Christmas season. This story originally appeared in Chicken Soup for the Soul, Tales of Christmas 2011. The picture is one she took of this nativity set which still sits under their tree each year even though the grandchildren are mostly all adults.

The Last Christmas ~ Valerie Ronald

  

My mother never told me how much she would miss me when I remarried and moved to Manitoba. Some years before, she came to live near me and my family after my father died, where our relationship grew closer. She stood by me as I struggled through a divorce and serious health issues, and I gave her companionship and help as she aged.

She was happy for me when I met my “Manitoba man”. Having witnessed my years of painful struggle in my first marriage, she wanted God’s best for me, even if it meant I would be leaving. She bravely expressed only joy and encouragement as we planned a wedding in the middle of my chemotherapy treatments. Later I learned how her heart was breaking at the thought of me going.

Before our first wedding anniversary, my mother was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. She chose not to have treatments as they would only prolong the inevitable. She maintained her independence as long as possible, with help from my older brother and her church family and friends. That winter my husband and I prayed, receiving God’s peace in our decision that I would fly west for what would most likely be her last Christmas.

I tried not to cry as I greeted her with a long hug. She was small and fragile in my arms, yet her gaunt face shone with joy at my arrival. She was still living in her beautiful seaside apartment, making do with medical home care and other helps. Though in early remission from cancer myself, I took over her care as best I could.

Words cannot describe the warm presence of God in that cozy apartment as we settled in for what seemed like one long sleep-over. We openly talked about what was coming, which intensified our pleasure in being together. We cried, we laughed, we reminisced and we talked about God. My mother became a Christian later in life, during my father’s illness. She looked to Jesus as her constant companion through many lonely days. She had a hunger to learn about Him in His Word, as if she were making up for lost time. What a difference it made for her to face death knowing she would soon be with her Savior.

 That Christmas there were a few cards on the mantelpiece but that was it for holiday decorations, so one evening I dug out Mom’s beloved nativity set. She sat in her favourite rocker wrapped in a warm pink robe with a blanket over her knees, watching me carefully unpack the porcelain figures. A friend had built her a rustic creche some years ago, which she wanted set on a table close by her chair. She asked me to hand her the figures in a certain order. Tenderly cradling each piece, she told me how every Christmas she liked to imagine what it was like for those who were there when Jesus was born.

The animals in the stable watching curiously as this small, naked creature slept in their hay. The shepherds still dazed by their angel visitation, coming to see if there really was a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger, as they had been told. And solemn Joseph, weary yet vigilant as he watched over Mary and her newborn son ˗˗ what responsibility he must have felt.

My mother held the figure of a kneeling Mary for a long time, turning it over in her trembling hands before she spoke.

“I think I know some of what Mary felt ˗˗ relief, wonder and fierce love for her baby. Maybe she checked that he had all his fingers and toes, like I did when you were born.” She held me long in her loving gaze.

“Even though Mary knew who her baby boy was meant to be, she probably loved him first as most mothers love their babies, with all her heart.”

I rested my head against her knees.

“Just like you loved me,” I whispered as I felt her hand on my head.

That Christmas was filled with bittersweet moments ˗˗ memories of my mother to treasure, whose beautiful brown eyes spoke volumes when she could not speak. A few months later the family was called to come and say our final goodbyes to her in the hospital. By then she hardly knew we were there, yet I knew I had already said my goodbyes during our precious last Christmas together. Though my heart grieved, I knew it was not really goodbye, rather it was until we meet again, when I would join her in heaven.

Her nativity set resides with me now. It is the first thing I put up each Christmas season. In keeping with tradition, I think about what the first Christmas was like for each character as I place their figure in the creche. And I remember how God gifted me with a precious last Christmas with my mother.

More of Valerie's work can be read on her blog:

https://scriptordeus.wordpress.com/