Some of you will remember my lament that I have no Nativity set. I was given my childhood one, which followed us around the world. But it was never unpacked. We still have some boxes that haven’t been opened in nearly two decades, it is possible that it is still safely tucked away. I do hope so. But for most of my married life, I have not displayed a Nativity.
After Brian’s ordination, it began to sting a little more. I felt more than ever that I should have one. I had every intention of purchasing one this year, and had gathered up our gift certificates for a particular religious goods store that we love. Alas, it wasn’t enough, by quite a long way, to purchase the Fontanini set that Brian and I had been dreaming of. I was a little heartbroken. OK, more than a little.
And just a couple of days ago, a big box arrived in the mail.
The first figure out of the box was, quite appropriately, St. Francis:
It’s wonderful. I am so grateful that someone decided to let another family enjoy their Nativity. I’m sure it will be treasured for many years to come.
Brian is already dreaming of a whole new stable and village for all 35 figures. I’m just dreaming of putting Baby Jesus in His manger bed on Christmas Eve, when we return from Mass.