Circle of Friends

Before the season progresses to the point that a post containing the infant baby Jesus would be ungracious, let me insert a story about the ever-changing nativity sets in my house. We're actually not church going people. I don't mean to offend anyone or make anyone mad. I especially don't intend for anyone to think less of me as a person, a mother, a wife. But it's true. So I suspect it comes as a great shock to most of my friends to see a crèche in my house, let alone two.

The two crèche I have are really works of art, Latin American folk art to be specific. One I purchased in San Miguel de Allende at a pewter shop and the other was a gift from my husband's sister who lived abroad at the time. Every year I am never quite sure where to put them. This year, I placed them side by side under the small tree that I permit my children to decorate.

In much the same way that we found Elf in a new spot each morning, I would walk past the crèches and wonder, "Where are the Jesuses?" Really. Once I found them both precariously swinging together in the garland that is strung between two balustrades at the top of my stairs. But most often I would find the Jesuses switched at birth and joined by their adoptive families in a tight little, watchful circle.

I don't know who the culprit is exactly. But I have my suspicions. His name might rhyme with Jason. Frankly I suspect him because as reflected in his interpretation of the nativity scene, when I try to arrange his life he promptly circles the wagons and gets comfortable. He, himself, is a protector who feels safest in the circling arms of his family and friends.