AS A WOMAN OF FAITH, the true meaning of Christmas rests for me in the birth of Jesus. Certainly, I appreciate and celebrate the secular aspects, too. But, above all, my focus centers on the Christ Child born in Bethlehem.
In early December, I joined a group of volunteers who were decorating my church, Trinity Lutheran in Faribault, for Advent. This was my first year participating as I don’t particularly enjoy putting up decorations. But I decided I could at least follow directions and do whatever I was told.
Turns out I rather enjoyed several hours of working with my faith family to hang greens and other festive decorations. My only stipulation—I wouldn’t climb a ladder.
When the guys climbed a ladder, pulling a vintage plastic Nativity set from a storage space, my new friend Nancy told me she’d been tasked with disposing of the scene (she planned to donate it to a downtown secondhand shop). I protested. Loudly. I wanted the Holy Family to stay at Trinity. And displayed.
I scanned the narthex for a spot, my eyes landing on a corner bookshelf. Perfect. I ran my idea past Leann, who was all in. She rolled the bookshelf to another space. And then several of us unboxed the trio of mother, father and child, actually two children. Another Nancy and I chose the darker-skinned baby with hands that appeared more life-like than the other plastic Jesus. And then Nancy tossed the rejected baby back in the box. Tossed. I protested loudly. In fun, of course. She picked up the second Jesus and laid him gently in the box.
Then I stepped into the cool December Saturday morning to shake dirt from the plain brown swatch of fabric found with the baby. Perfect, we all thought. Just like back in Bethlehem days—a basic, simple wrap to warm the new baby born in a barn.
The scene, though, was still missing something. A star, suggested Leann, who promised to bring one from home. Perfect.
Sunday morning I arrived for worship services to see the scene completed with a glowing star set upon a table and “The Christmas Story” children’s picture books artfully displayed on a round table for kids to borrow. The table represented the stable in Bethlehem. Marilyn’s idea. It worked.
Baby Jesus, though, was no longer wrapped in the basic brown cloth. Rather, he was snugged in a green and white quilt of stripes and circles stitched and tied by the Trinity Quilt Makers. Not exactly period authentic, but it would have to do. I was not in charge of decorating.
After church services, as I visited with friends, I observed a preschooler walk up to the Nativity set and take in the scene before him. My heart, my spirit, my soul filled with joy. This was exactly why I wanted Mary, Joseph and the Christ Child to remain at Trinity. I knew kids would be drawn to the corner scene of lighted figurines, to view the plastic Jesus so carefully laid in the manger under the watchful eyes of his loving parents.
© Copyright 2023 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Minnesota Prairie Roots 
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