Day 359: Merry Christmas to all my friends and family! I am veering from what I wrote for today just a little. Actually, it’s a Christmas Double Whammy! I spoke in our ward last Sunday, and some of the thoughts I shared with my ward, I really want to share with all of you, too.
So, this is Message Number One: The Christmas season brings its own perspective for a child, which is why most of us can empathize with Ralphie in A Christmas Story. There are certain aspects of Christmas that only children can fully grasp. The wonder. The angst. The anticipation. The faith. The belief. The awe.
We have several nativities we have collected over the years. Each year, when we set them up, it’s a bit like taking a stroll along our timeline as a family. The first one was ceramic. My husband and I painted the entire thing ivory and felt very proud of our newlywed handiwork. Since then, we’ve added an olivewood nativity we brought home from Bethlehem. We inherited a nativity from Oberammergau that my sister brought home from Germany for my parents. We have one made of salt dough that our daughter, Meg, made in Dorothy Pickering’s Primary class, which is basic and primitive and molded by Meg’s little 5-year-old hands. That one may be the most precious of them all. We have porcelain nativities and modern nativities and teeny tiny nativities. Last year we added a toy nativity for the grandchildren so they can act out the story without anyone saying “Don’t touch.”
When our son, Taylor, was only five or six, he was helping us set up the many pieces of the olivewood nativity, and after he had them all arranged in a circle around the baby in the manger, he stepped back to assess his work. With hands on his hips, he said “So, which one is Smith?”
David and I looked at him and then we looked at each other. “What do you mean?” we asked him.
“You know,” he said, like we were silly not to understand, “Smith. Joseph Smith. The guy who got the gold plates out from under the big rock.”
We knelt down to his level and pointed to Joseph, next to Mary. “This man was named Joseph, too, but Joseph Smith lived much later. He wasn’t there in Bethlehem when Baby Jesus was born. He wasn’t part of this story.”
Taylor thought about it and shrugged his shoulders. “I think he should be part of the story.” He pointed to one of the shepherds, “I’m gonna call him Smith.”
Every year since, we’ve told Taylor’s story as we set up the nativities. It has become part of our tradition. Taylor is a father now, and still, his childlike statement rings true for me. We are all part of the story.
Many years ago, my husband and I visited the church in Bethlehem where it is said Christ was born. We stood in long lines that weaved between soaring stone pillars, waiting for our turn to go down a set of narrow stairs to what felt like a basement. Our host explained that at the time of Christ's birth, this basement would have been a cave in a hillside where cattle were sheltered. The area was small, and we crammed as many of our group as we could into that little stone room, to peer at a silver star inlaid in the stone floor. It should have felt cramped and damp and unlikely, but it didn't. It felt sacred to imagine the many spirits gathered to witness the birth that would change the world.
We may not have been present as a wise man or an innkeeper or a shepherd named Smith, but we are, each and every one of us, part of the story. When Jesus Christ was born, He drew us into that circle around the manger. He included us. He made us part of His story.
Isn’t it fitting that His birth reset the earth’s calendar? That we think of everything before His birth, separately from all that has happened since His birth? Christ reset the calendar to give the earth a second chance. He reset the clock to give us eternity. He reset judgment to give us repentance. Our time here on earth is fraught with challenges and heartache and difficulty, but knowing that we have been given a reset button of our own, and knowing that we are part of a bigger story, His story, makes it possible to see that there is also beauty and love and happiness in this life for us.
A few years ago, the Young Women of our ward and their leaders read The Book of Mormon together at the urging of then YW president, Michelle Hatch. She gave us a red pencil and instructed us to mark every mention of Christ as we read. This fall, President Nelson asked the same thing of all the women of the church. Both experiences had the same outcome for me. A book that testifies of Christ on every page. It may be entitled The Book of Mormon, but it is His story. Christ re-set His story to include each and every one of us. Taylor was right. Joseph Smith belonged there. And so do you.
The next time you look at a nativity, imagine yourself tucked shoulder to shoulder with the others in the stable, looking on in awe. You belong there. You are part of His story. Sometimes it takes the perspective of a child to remind us that is so.
And here is Message Number Two: Sometimes we think of our ancestors as nothing more than the names and dates listed on the towering branches of our family trees, or as the data filling in the blanks on our pedigree charts, but they are real and they are watching us from heaven. They lived their lives before us, passing down their traits and quirks; their DNA; and even though we never knew them, their decisions and their life choices ultimately shaped our own.
Rather than a branch on a tree, or a blank on a pedigree chart, I’ve come to imagine that line beneath their name as a stretchy band; a timeline of their time on earth. A cord. A tether. Some of us have long tethers, and some are short.
When Jesus Christ offered to come to earth and serve as our Savior and Redeemer, He gave us the gift of eternity. He stretched that tether from generation to generation, connecting us to one another, and connecting us to Him, so that He can pull us safely home if we are holding on tight.
Like the shepherds couldn’t have known what gift it was they were witnessing that night that the angels sang and the star shown, like the innkeeper couldn’t have known the important gift of the baby born in his stable’s manger, like the wisemen could not have fully grasped the magnitude of the gift they journeyed so far to see, we have so much to learn about the gifts our Savior has given us.
My mother never felt she was anything especially noteworthy. She didn’t feel like she had accomplished anything special. She considered herself ordinary. Perhaps you feel that way, too. I know I do. But my mother couldn’t have known she would be the gift Heavenly Father would use to answer my prayer. She didn’t know she would be the example He would use to gather her family. She didn’t know that the life she was living, and the service she offered, would reach through the generations, so much farther than her 69 years.
The shepherds and the innkeeper and the wisemen couldn’t have known. My mother couldn’t have known. But Christ knows. He knows the gifts He has given. Each of you are a gift He has given to someone else. He has placed you on your family’s timeline at the precise moment when you will set an example for someone else or be in a position to reach for their tether and pull them close.
You are a gift. His precious gift.
Christ gave us the grandest of gifts by condescending to Earth in the humblest of circumstances to become our Savior. He is the ultimate gift giver. He knows where to place you.
Maybe you are like the wise men, calling attention to Christ for those who haven’t yet made the journey. Maybe you are a shepherd, not too busy caring for those in need to recognize the signs and follow the star. Maybe you are like the innkeeper right now, overworked and overwhelmed, but feeling a need to go see what’s happening in the stable. And maybe you’re like my mom. She would have been one of the neighbors, living next to the stable. She would have taken what she could to the little family in the stable, and dropped it off anonymously, feeling her contribution was insignificant. But Heavenly Father placed her exactly where she needed to be for our family. Wherever you are on your timeline, please be assured that Jesus Christ knows where you are and why you’re there. He knows your worth.
He has given the gift of you, exactly where you’re needed. You are so very valuable to Him, He willingly gave His life to ensure that you could make it back home. He has stretched your tether from generation to generation, connecting you to your family, and connecting you to Him, and He will pull you safely home if you’ll but just hold on tight.
This Christmas, it is my prayer that each of you can feel how valuable a gift you are, and how tenderly He has placed you to be a gift to the others of his flock. Merry Christmas!
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