I am packing away Christmas. I wait until the dusk of Epiphany to do so. Like children waiting for Santa, I find I must wait until the wise men have arrived and gazed upon the babe in the manger before I can tuck away the treasures that adorn the house telling the Christmas story.
I wander from room to room feasting my eyes one last time on assorted Nativity sets that depict the Holy Family in wood and stone, in copper and plastic and in pure, white bisque.
This year for Advent I have gifted my darling five year old granddaughters each with their own collectible Nativity set. I so want the girls to feel as I do about them. More important than Elf on the Shelf, as significant a part of the celebration as learning to give as well as receive, I want to give them a piece of myself. Theirs are little pastel colored versions complete with camel and donkey, sheep and shepherd, angels and wise men.
Ah, Wise Men.
It is a reflective year. For the first time in many years all of my children, their spouses and mates, and their children - all five of my precious grandchildren - have gathered and now have scattered. They came bearing gifts and goodies, bundles and boxes - and the dreaded stomach bug that then plagued us for days from home to home and state to state. We shared carefully chosen presents, a simple holiday feast, the company of friends who came to meet the newest, sweet baby and introduce their own wee one - and germs; we shared all kinds of germs. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times as only a Christmas with four generations including a newborn and an eighty three year old matriarch and her sister, our cherished aunt, and contagion can be.
Fear is a miserable traveling companion, a terrible guest at a family gathering. Illness and the fear of illness for wee ones and matriarchs chases away joy. It is like a bitter after dinner drink attempting to spoil the anticipation that has built into delight only to be stolen by this uninvited tyrant.
And so, as I pack up Christmas this year in the wake of all that emotion both spilled out and contained, I listen to We Three Kings, I wrap my treasures in tissue paper and bubble wrap, I sip my tea and I ponder the first Christmas. How exciting and how fraught with fear it must have been.
A long journey for that young mother with no reservation for a birthing bed at the other end. A husband wanting to take the best care of his wife and newborn who could find only a stable with warm hay for rest. A wicked, worldly king threatening harm. So very much fear mixed in with the joy. And still, so very much joy.
And then, weeks later, the Wise Men came bearing gifts for the babe, the king in a manger. They brought Gold and Frankincense and Myrrh. Important gifts for this baby. Gifts that he would need.
I pick up each cherished item in my home - many of them Christmas gifts to me. I think about who gave them to me and who it is I wish to have them when I am gone. Who will cherish what I cherish? Who will want this Nativity, this ornament, this angel? I want to pass these on. I want to know that my children and grandchildren will enjoy what has brought me so much pleasure and so many memories. And then I think about the greatest gift of all and I know that more than having my my "things" to hold, I want my precious children and grandchildren to hold Christmas in their hearts.
And so this is my gift to you this Epiphany as I reflect and pack away my treasures.
Remember always, always, always to keep Christ in Christmas. Use the nativities to tell the story. Tell it often. A broken Nativity is better than a dusty one.
Gather. Travel to see one another whenever you can.
Fear is a miserable traveling companion; a terrible guest at the table. It does not always bring out the best in us. Forgive one another for things said and done whether in fear or with the best of intentions that turned out badly. If you do, Joy will triumph.
Thank you for a wonder-filled Christmas. Thank you to those who traveled and those who gathered.
Thank you for the gifts of love, of time, of treasure. Thank you for the gift of forgiveness.
Thank you for filling my life with the Joy of Christmas.
Love, Mom.
