The leftover turkey and stuffing were barely put away after Thanksgiving when my daughters asked, “Can we decorate now?”
For Christmas? Already? Whatever happened to the patience and waiting for Advent? But with my older one heading back to college after just a few days and my younger one already searching for the best holiday tunes on Pandora, I gave in. After two difficult Christmas seasons for us all, I too was excited to “deck the halls”—or at least the family room.
We carted from the basement boxes of mini trees, ceramic Santas, and all the other Christmas mementos a family could possibly collect. The last box, labeled “Nativities,” was the first one we opened.
Carefully unwrapping each figure, we placed them in their respective scenes around the house. There was the one we received for our first Christmas with Mary and Joseph’s expressive faces and flowing robes, and the one which we bought for the girls when they were little with the Holy Family portrayed as young children, smiling sweetly. We laughed at the “Peanuts” figures, comical but cute with Snoopy dressed as sheep. The other small creches and mother and child ornaments would be placed around the Christmas tree later in the week.
Though the rest of the house was in disarray, at least the Nativity scenes were set, with each tiny Baby Jesus safely tucked away until we placed him in the manger on Christmas Eve. For this, I always said, we would be patient. And for this, they agreed, we would wait.
Like the Blessed Mother, looking longingly into an empty space, filled only with bits of straw on a side table, we know the best parts of Christmas can’t be rushed. Whether she is a traditional Mary kneeling solemnly or one played by Lucy with a bright blue veil, she waits without complaint of frustration for the birth of her son. Such lessons she can teach us.
The spirit of Advent is present in each Nativity scene that is missing its Baby Jesus—whether in our home, at church or event in the giant plastic display glowing on the neighbor’s lawn.
We must wait, though so often at this time of year, we hear others— and ourselves—say, “Oh, I can’t wait for …” The holiday break to come. The guests to arrive. The Amazon delivery to get here. Or, as the 4-year-old next door says, “For Santa!”
Through all this anticipation, what we really desire is the coming of Christ. The empty space is that visible sign of all we wait for and, indeed, all we hope for.
With patience, I pause daily beside the Nativity on the side table, knowing that soon, the babe will lie in that manger among the bits of straw. Even if the holiday break is shorter than we’d like, or if the guests arrive late, or if the Amazon delivery gets lost, we know for certain that each tiny Baby Jesus will be placed beside his mother when the angels proclaim, “For unto us a child is born!”
