For many years we re-enacted the Christmas Story at my mother’s house. As young girls my sister and I traded off taking the part of Mary, the Angel, or a shepherd and my brothers filled in all the male roles. Being the oldest I was the narrator for several years.
During my motherhood years I didn’t usually take a part, but every year, on Christmas Eve about the time all the other adults had collapsed on sofas and in chairs, being overcome with preparation and food, my sister and I called all the cousins into Grandma’s bedroom and we costumed for the Nativity Scene.
“Mom, my shepherd hat won’t stay on!”
“You were the wise man last year, give me grandma’s jewelry!”
“Where’s Uncle _____ robe?”
“Sheets, we need more sheets.”
My mother totally left this preparation (which was always more dramatic that the presentation itself) to my sister and I. I’m sure she determined that she had put in enough time as director of this yearly pageant. I doubt if she enjoyed her retirement, as she heard the sound of 15+ children in her bedroom fighting over her beads and robes and rummaging through her drawers for this or that important prop.
The issue of who was to take the role of baby Jesus was usually pretty clear-cut, but one year we had to line up four baskets, two baby boys, and a set of twin girls. We even tried to involve some of the adult men, uncles taking the part of camels and donkeys.
Today the tradition lives on, only now it’s my jewelry and towels and robes they’re using. I’m the Grandma who allows her daughters to opportunity to do the directing.
This yearly event gives each of us a few minutes to pretend we are there. Christmas time seems to shorten the years that have lapsed since the adult audience actually participated as part of the cast. Our childlike love for the pageant is easily accessed. For a few short minutes we have relived more that just a story. The thousands of miles and years that separate us from them, those ancient ones, are diminished.
But alas the Christ-child story and the evening must come to a close. The signs are always clear. The baby Jesus starts to cry because he or she just can’t lie there and be that good any longer, a strand of Grandma’s favorite beads breaks, someone’s costume completely falls apart, or one of the uncles who has been playing the part of a camel realizes that he may never walk upright again. We quickly sing one verse of “Silent Night” and then spend the next hour folding up towels and sheets and hanging up robes and searching for Grandma’s lost jewelry.
The magic of that night 2000 years ago is suddenly filled up with thoughts of getting home, hanging up stockings, and wrapping one last gift. We wonder if 7-11 sells anything that will do for neighbors we barely know who just dropped off a beef-jerky stick, assorted cheeses, and a bag full of homemade caramel popcorn balls. And finally, there is the fear that Santa might leave something that requires assembly.
The family nativity tradition has been revisited one more year. The children are satisfied; the childhood within each of us is satisfied. Now we can move forward with other traditions, feeling good about giving a prominent place to the true meaning of Christmas. We have reminded the children of the most wondrous people, events, and symbols in the history of man. This is a wonderful gift from us to our children, and from them to us (looking back and for a few minutes, placing ourselves in the middle of The Central Event of All History).
Re-enacting of the Christmas Story while mom or dad reads the scriptural rendition is often our earliest and most basic experience of likening the scriptures unto ourselves. Learning to “liken,” the scriptures unto myself, as Nephi calls it, has been a huge blessing in my life and in my recovery. Without fail the principles I am taught as I study correspond with the Gospel centered principles represented by the 12 Steps.
As grownups we don’t dress up like those ancients, in our daily scripture study, in order to learn from their experience. Instead we place ourselves figuratively in their shoes, and we consider the principles that are being taught from their experience. Then we seek the blessing of knowing through the Spirit how their experience applies to our own and how we might act on that understanding.
The verses telling of the birth of Jesus Christ represent the world’s most widely known set of scriptures. I wonder if God planned that such a universally known story might hold value for likening and learning for us.
What can I learn from the Christmas Story that might enlighten and inspire my application of the 12 Steps today? Over the next few days I would like to share some of the thoughts I have had about the people, events, and symbols of the Christmas Story and how they can be seen through the eyes of recovery.
By Nannette W.
Posted Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Copyright 2008 by Nannette W. All right reserved. Making or sending copies is permitted if the page is not changed in any way and the material is not used for profit. This notice must be included on each copy made or sent.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
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1 comment:
I loved the story of what goes on in Grandma's bedroom! Looking forward, as always, to your thoughts on recovery that you so graciously share. Merry Christmas to you!
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