I found Jesus!
Monday, December 4th, 2006 09:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mothwingRejoice with me! Now our Christmas festivities will no longer feel as though there was something missing. My family and I have been looking for him quite a while now, and finally, this year, there will be no strange substitutes any more! He was in a basket on the upstairs corridor all along, buried among old wrapping paper that had piled up in it for a reason.
Don't worry, I am talking about the wooden figurine from our nativity set. I know these things are dangerously kitschy, but they are part of my Christmasses like the tree, like the annual fights, like wobbling cassettes with carols because none of us can sing, like the smell of pine and the fight about who is going to try and untangle the fairy lights this year, who tangled them last year, whose fault everything is, etc.
Edit: Take that, you Christians with your leaflets on campus who assume that everybody around you must be a heathen fiend.
Now, when they go, "Have you found Jesus?" I can always go, "Oh, yeah, he was in the basket in the corridor all along, but thanks for asking!"
The little wooden baby Jesus belongs to my grandmother and has been part of Christmas for longer than I can remember. It was a magical and special treat to be allowed to help her setting it up, and especially to place the holy family in the stable - although I have to admit that I was much more preoccupied with the donkey and the oxen as a child than with, say, Joseph.
After me and my mother had moved to another house with my father (who had been living in Hannover prior to that for job reasons), my mother and I made our own, with ceramic, self-painted figurines. Oh, I can remember painting those sheep! They are easy, and easy enough for a six- or seven-years-old. Our five shepherds had a flock of five apologetic, forlorn sheep in the beginning, but by and by, the flock grew to a couple of dozen. The same happened to the multitude of the heavenly host, which was, at first, actually only one host, and because we did not have anything for him to stand on, he had to stand on the roof of the stable. He's got lots of company, now. I loved painting the angels. Due to my expert taste in colours, most of them do not only have silver wings, but also are wearing bright, pink or green garments.
The one my grandmother has is not colourful, it's made from wood, and my grandfather built the little stable himself. My grandmother always has the three magi advancing a little every day, and only has them reach the manger on Epiphany. I remember checking in on them every day, to see how they were getting on, how far they still had to go until they would reach the stable.
Sometimes I think that the Christmasses at my grandparent's were the only times, with the possible exception of last year, when Christmas actually felt right, and not just like one, big awful family gathering that everyone wants to be over as soon as possible.
In Crocky's fairy-tale family, the house is full of people who love each other so much it actually becomes visible in their eyes, especially at Christmas, people are actually happy it's Christmas, happy to see each other, not faintly worried, and there is always, always music - half-played piano tunes, or carols, violins from rooms upstairs, brass instruments...
In my family, there are always fights at Christmas, fights and wounds and tempers and tantrums and tears, and I am always glad when Christmas is finally, finally over. The atmosphere is always tense and uncomfortable, and everyone draws back a little more into their shell, ready for the attacks the others might want to levy on them, because emotions are running high.
The holy family in their stable is actually quite lucky, I faintly remember thinking once, because the stable does not have any doors, and there are lots of people looking in on them, and people always behave better when there are strangers around.
Don't worry, I am talking about the wooden figurine from our nativity set. I know these things are dangerously kitschy, but they are part of my Christmasses like the tree, like the annual fights, like wobbling cassettes with carols because none of us can sing, like the smell of pine and the fight about who is going to try and untangle the fairy lights this year, who tangled them last year, whose fault everything is, etc.
Edit: Take that, you Christians with your leaflets on campus who assume that everybody around you must be a heathen fiend.
Now, when they go, "Have you found Jesus?" I can always go, "Oh, yeah, he was in the basket in the corridor all along, but thanks for asking!"
The little wooden baby Jesus belongs to my grandmother and has been part of Christmas for longer than I can remember. It was a magical and special treat to be allowed to help her setting it up, and especially to place the holy family in the stable - although I have to admit that I was much more preoccupied with the donkey and the oxen as a child than with, say, Joseph.
After me and my mother had moved to another house with my father (who had been living in Hannover prior to that for job reasons), my mother and I made our own, with ceramic, self-painted figurines. Oh, I can remember painting those sheep! They are easy, and easy enough for a six- or seven-years-old. Our five shepherds had a flock of five apologetic, forlorn sheep in the beginning, but by and by, the flock grew to a couple of dozen. The same happened to the multitude of the heavenly host, which was, at first, actually only one host, and because we did not have anything for him to stand on, he had to stand on the roof of the stable. He's got lots of company, now. I loved painting the angels. Due to my expert taste in colours, most of them do not only have silver wings, but also are wearing bright, pink or green garments.
The one my grandmother has is not colourful, it's made from wood, and my grandfather built the little stable himself. My grandmother always has the three magi advancing a little every day, and only has them reach the manger on Epiphany. I remember checking in on them every day, to see how they were getting on, how far they still had to go until they would reach the stable.
Sometimes I think that the Christmasses at my grandparent's were the only times, with the possible exception of last year, when Christmas actually felt right, and not just like one, big awful family gathering that everyone wants to be over as soon as possible.
In Crocky's fairy-tale family, the house is full of people who love each other so much it actually becomes visible in their eyes, especially at Christmas, people are actually happy it's Christmas, happy to see each other, not faintly worried, and there is always, always music - half-played piano tunes, or carols, violins from rooms upstairs, brass instruments...
In my family, there are always fights at Christmas, fights and wounds and tempers and tantrums and tears, and I am always glad when Christmas is finally, finally over. The atmosphere is always tense and uncomfortable, and everyone draws back a little more into their shell, ready for the attacks the others might want to levy on them, because emotions are running high.
The holy family in their stable is actually quite lucky, I faintly remember thinking once, because the stable does not have any doors, and there are lots of people looking in on them, and people always behave better when there are strangers around.
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no subject
Date: Tuesday, December 5th, 2006 04:06 am (UTC)And I hope this Christmas is a happy and joyous one for you, hun! :D
no subject
Date: Tuesday, December 5th, 2006 10:52 am (UTC)I hope you'll have a great Christmas, too!! :)