(I forgot to post this yesterday, so you got a day off. Two more to go!)

I spent a summer in Bolivia, where I got to help people. That was the general idea, but in retrospect, I think I got a lot of play time in there with the other LDS YSAs that went down. I wanted to practice my Spanish; most of the YSAs in the area wanted to practice their English. I was a redheaded gringa, anyway, so people assumed I didn’t know Spanish. Nevertheless, it was a memorable summer. I learned somethings about the culture, and I saw what it looked like to live in poverty.

In this nativity set, the characters are playing native Bolivian instruments and wearing traditional Bolivian clothing, reminiscent of the high country around La Paz. I wish it were larger: I’ve lost a piece, I think, and they break very easily. Nevertheless, I like the reminder of my time in Bolivia. I have it in my bedroom.

My mother-in-law sent us a nativity for our first Christmas. The figures are large and attention getting, and all of them remind me of angels singing “Joy to the World.” When I unpack it at Christmas-time, I am reminded of my mother-in-law and the joy of family gatherings at this time of year.

This year, I put it on top of my China case. It’s a bit of an odd space for it, but I think this majestic set does well at capturing our attention from above.

A few years ago, my grandmother B. sent me, and I think each grandchild (!), a beautiful, porcelain nativity set for Christmas. I am reminded of my grandmother and grandfather each year I take it out. It is gentle and beautiful, as is my grandmother. And it is majestic in grandeur, as I like to recall my grandfather.

This is one of those nativity sets that I imagine will break some day, thanks to some little child. Nonetheless, I do my best to keep it safe by keeping it underneath the Christmas tree, the traditional place for keeping presents. Since this was a present to me, under the tree seems an appropriate place for it still. But also, the tree skirt reminds me of a soft blanket for a babe in a manger, a place of rest and quiet. And the tree branches protect it, much as a real tree would protect small animals from the elements.

And so, the spot under the tree seems a fit resting place for this yearly reminder of my dear grandparents.

Nativity from Grandma

I had the marvelous and blessed opportunity to Jerusalem at the end of my first year at college (2000). The only thing I really really wanted for myself as a “souvenir” was an olive wood nativity. Supposedly, this was hand carved; the more I look at it, each year, the more I suspect it’s more of the generic variety. There are flaws in it and in some respects it’s rather cheaply made.  (I also didn’t know much about bargaining and so forth, so I can’t say it was cheap to buy). I was young and naive. If I had to choose again, I’d probably select a different, more “polished” model.

But those facts are irrelevant when I unpack this each year. I am reminded of my time in Jerusalem: the spirit I felt, the testimony I grew. I knew Heavenly Father answered my prayers. I knew He loved me. And every Christmas as I unpack this nativity set, I remember signing Christmas carols on the front lawn of the Jerusalem Center, as we talked of Shepherd’s Field. I am reminded of what Christmas truly means: our Savior was born! He Lived! And then He sacrificed His precious life and took it up again for each of us. Because of that, there is hope for each of us to return to Heavenly Father. That is truly the meaning of Christmas.

This olive wood set was the only nativity set I took with me to Australia, so it was our main means of celebration last year. I’m glad we had it. This year, it’s on the mantle over the fireplace.

My Olive Wood Nativity

I don’t know where I got this, but it was my first and only nativity scene when I was in high school. It was mine, in my room. I took it to college and it sat in a corner of my dorm room. Now, when I unpack it with my Christmas decorations, it reminds me of the joy of simplicity: while it’s cheap, it’s a Christmas reminder of the humility of Christ’s stable. This year it’s sitting on my desk.

When I take it out next year and the next, I’ll remember that a 14-month-old should never be left within reach of anything even remotely sentimental (he threw this down the stairs within 3 minutes). It is breakable. Surprise!

Thank goodness for elmer’s glue.