This nativity set is another family "heirloom". We bought it at Sears in about 1972, so it's not of great monetary value, nor is it particularly old nor rare. But is is the nativity set with which I grew up.
As a child I remember Mom and Dad setting it up, usually on top of the piano. We were not allowed to touch it. And so it was simply a piece of Christmas that was part of the whole process. Nothing special.
Something happens to us, though, when we grow up and leave home. In my case, I left home far, far behind, moving from PA to NC, OK, and finally out here in OR. I had the opportunity to start my own family traditions. I was on my own, all grown up, and independent.
And so I started to collect my childhood. And insist on doing things just like we had done them back in the day.
Mom always baked dozens of cookies for Christmas. Most were made while we were in school. But the sandtarts, a sugar cookie that was cut with cookie cutters and then decorated with colored sugar and little candies, those were done when we were at home so that the kids could help out with the decorating. Mom rolled the dough and cut the cookies, brushed them with egg white to make them shine, and then passed the tray on to us. The four of us attacked the cookies with our decorations, striping bells, highlighting the tips of stars, putting buttons on gingerbread men, and outlining Santa's hat. On Christmas morning those cookies were the featured item for our breakfast. I don't know why this tradition got started, but I never complained - cookies and hot chocolate for breakfast and presents, too?!!? Bliss!
So after I left home I scoured antique shops and estate sales until I found the cookie cutters like Mom had. With the boys gone I don't make sandtarts anymore, but I need to know that I can make them, just like Mom, if I want to. And while Scott thinks cookies for breakfast is disgusting, I still make sure there is at least one batch available.
But I digress. Back to the nativity set.
Somewhere along the way, our nativity set came into my hands. It could be that no one wanted it and it wasn't being used, so Mom gave it to me. I just don't remember. But what I do remember is how drastically the traditions surrounding it changed. With no piano on which to enthrone it, the nativity set ended up on a coffee table. My son, Nathaniel, who was a young boy at the time, was given the task of arranging the characters in some semblance of order.
He hit upon the idea of making the nativity set a sort of Advent calendar. Mary, Joseph, Jesus, and the angel took center stage. The Ox and Ass settled in next to them. The lone shepherd with his half dozen sheep crept close. And way off in the distance the Wise Men began their journey to see the newborn king. Every night, before he went to bed, Nathaniel moved the three travelers with their lone camel a few steps closer to their destination. By Christmas Eve they were close enough to see the Holy Family, but were not permitted to join in the adoration until Christmas morning.
These days, now that Nathaniel is gone, I simply set up the nativity set like you see it. But as I do, I am flooded with memories of my childhood and that of my son. And I know that I am blessed.
