Today's Christmas Eve began like I assume many others might have experienced. Irate conversation with man in India who can't tell me how my amazon.com order got lost. Missing extended families, a little home sick. One sister with no gift to open tomorrow. A frantic mad dash to the grocery store three times in a row to make sure we have each ingredient for our feasting. The overview of gifts purchased in my mind, nope didn't feel happy with what I got Mike. Out to the store for that ONE LAST perfect gift. Fought traffic jams in parking lots, stood in long lines with irritable people. Back to the grocery store again. Doesn't look like Celiac Santa is getting special cookies or fudge this year- no time left in the day. Delightful belly with traditional Mexican fiesta and good friends to visit with. Kids running wild, fully charged with countless ounces of sugar. The clean-up and goodbyes. Putting snacks out for Santa. A big sigh and contemplation of what we really want to tell him about Santa next year when he is old enough to comprehend, respond, and ask questions. Are we doing this right? What is the right way to do this? What do we want to teach him? Oh, well, it's late and we have 12 more months to figure that one out.Final diaper change of the day and into warm jammies. Should I have sung more Christmas carols? Read more Christmas books this month? Talked more about it?
Mike grabs the scriptures and informs me it's during the story that we place baby Jesus into the nativity scene. I don't hesitate because I know no other tradition. Zane scoots backwards until he settles into my cozy lap, holding a shiny, ceramic Jesus. He gives it a little taste test; let's consider it a kiss. Mike reads the Christmas story in Luke, like every father should, and indicates the time we place Jesus into the nativity scene. I was half listening and wholly realizing this is what doing it right is all about. The presents and worry and questions escape my mind and I am filled with a peace that I always hope to have in my home.
