Chritmas Eve

This is the night that I used to suspend all logical thoughts and believe in the magical. When I was a kid, this was the night that Santa came to our house, appeared in our living room (we didn't have a fireplace, so there was no way he was coming down the chimney) and left a piles of presents for my siblings and I. We helped our dad decorate the tree, the smells coming from the kitchen of baked pies for the next day's dessert, and giggled and wiggled until far into the night waiting for the next day.

But also in the room was my mother's elaborate Nativity scene. It was not lavish, nor imported from some foreign land. It was put on top of a card table or placed on top of the stereo speakers completely obliterating it. It was a large wooden platform that had some grainy green stuff for the base which I think was that fake grass from train sets. It had a sandy path which led up to a wooden barn-like thing. It had sheep grazing around and occasionally sipping from the mirror placed amid the sand and grit to look like a pond. One of the sheep had a busted leg, so we had to prop him up on a piece of stick placed to look like a log near the pond. Each day my mother would read from the purple "Advent book" and we would either place a new figure in the scene or read about something related to the scene. By the time Christmas Eve rolled around the scene was set and after church on this night, we would come home and place Mary and Joseph in the old barn, looking at an empty manger. See it wasn't Christmas yet. Jesus made his first appearance on Christmas morning, so we couldn't add him in until the correct time.

The Nativity scene I have in my own home fits on the mantlepiece around the chimney (yes, I have a fireplace now). It's not as homespun as my mothers and not as big. But the pieces are lovingly placed each year throughout Advent, waiting until Christmas morning for Jesus.

The magic of the season is with me still. Maybe not the Santa part. But the small baby part, coming to redeem us from ourselves. God coming down once again in the mystic communion of the night to see his creations and let us know that as unworthy as we are of his love, He loves us still.So there is still magic in the night tonight. The magic of love and wonder and awe. God comes down every Christmas, indeed every day of every year. What could be more magical than that?

Merry Christmas all!