She almost threw the cheap nativity away last year. She vowed to never set it up again. The cardboard stable was frayed, the sheep were chewed up and had toothpick legs, the camel never lasted a year, and the baby bore NVE’s teeth marks. Even Marcus had rolled his eyes and asked her why she kept it. Why bother at all?
Naomi had asked herself that very question while digging the box out of the closet the night before. Charumati was gone and Naomi was divorced. Thaddeus finally had what he wanted – solitude. Wren was far away; Marcus worked and spent his spare time with his girlfriend; Argus was a stranger to him.
“It’s here because Tradition,” Naomi lifted Argus from his playpen so he could better see the manger scene. “Because the first year, I yelled at your Auntie Charu and Uncle Neil for not keeping Christmas, and the second year I learned that she wasn’t as tuned out as I thought, and the third year she chewed on your Uncle Fram. Because you don’t have to believe in something in order to appreciate the stories behind it. Because it’s a nice story, too. I don’t have to believe a turtle carries the world on his back in order to fancy a picture of him doing it, right?”
Argus burbled laughter as she perched him on her hip. She was hard pressed to keep him from snatching up the plastic figures.
“We keep Christmas because we like it,” she poked his nose with her finger to distract him from the sheep. “Elisabeth Cornwell said that. She also said celebration does not belong solely to the pious, and I must agree. Christmas is a perfect time to remember family and friends who are no longer with us. She says they stay with us in loving memory, and we celebrate how much richer our lives are because they were a part of us, shaping us, and making us better for knowing them. It’s not all about presents and Santa, or whether or not you believe a baby in a manger is the son of a god. We put up this manky old manger with its chewed up figures because there are wonderful memories tied to it. The people involved were good people, and they left their marks upon our hearts just as readily as they did the plastic sheep.”
Naomi looked down at the crèche and sighed. “So, even though they’re either gone or far away, they’re still here with us thanks to Tradition. Maybe you’ll set this old manger up someday, when you’re older and have your own children. Maybe they’ll ask you why the sheep have toothpick legs. You can pass the stories on to them, the really good ones about compassion and goodwill and charity among friends and loved ones, and let those stories help shape them and enrich their lives.”
She peered into the manager and then plucked the baby from the straw. “Let me tell you about the time your Uncle Neil ate Baby Jesus…”
Naomi had asked herself that very question while digging the box out of the closet the night before. Charumati was gone and Naomi was divorced. Thaddeus finally had what he wanted – solitude. Wren was far away; Marcus worked and spent his spare time with his girlfriend; Argus was a stranger to him.
“It’s here because Tradition,” Naomi lifted Argus from his playpen so he could better see the manger scene. “Because the first year, I yelled at your Auntie Charu and Uncle Neil for not keeping Christmas, and the second year I learned that she wasn’t as tuned out as I thought, and the third year she chewed on your Uncle Fram. Because you don’t have to believe in something in order to appreciate the stories behind it. Because it’s a nice story, too. I don’t have to believe a turtle carries the world on his back in order to fancy a picture of him doing it, right?”
Argus burbled laughter as she perched him on her hip. She was hard pressed to keep him from snatching up the plastic figures.
“We keep Christmas because we like it,” she poked his nose with her finger to distract him from the sheep. “Elisabeth Cornwell said that. She also said celebration does not belong solely to the pious, and I must agree. Christmas is a perfect time to remember family and friends who are no longer with us. She says they stay with us in loving memory, and we celebrate how much richer our lives are because they were a part of us, shaping us, and making us better for knowing them. It’s not all about presents and Santa, or whether or not you believe a baby in a manger is the son of a god. We put up this manky old manger with its chewed up figures because there are wonderful memories tied to it. The people involved were good people, and they left their marks upon our hearts just as readily as they did the plastic sheep.”
Naomi looked down at the crèche and sighed. “So, even though they’re either gone or far away, they’re still here with us thanks to Tradition. Maybe you’ll set this old manger up someday, when you’re older and have your own children. Maybe they’ll ask you why the sheep have toothpick legs. You can pass the stories on to them, the really good ones about compassion and goodwill and charity among friends and loved ones, and let those stories help shape them and enrich their lives.”
She peered into the manager and then plucked the baby from the straw. “Let me tell you about the time your Uncle Neil ate Baby Jesus…”
~meaning no disrespect to anyone of any faith (or non-faith) here.
Merry Swithmas!
Love, Swith