I must say that my obsession with traditions is rooted in needing predictable events in my childhood. Things weren’t always routine in life and I think my affection for traditions helped make things a little easier.

One tradition I had every year was to set up the nativity with my granny each year. My brothers sometimes helped, but they weren’t as interested in it. My granny made and painted them in a ceramics class before I can remember. We has a nice cardboard creche and a Gideon Bible to complete the scene. When I was young, Granny would hand me the Bible while she unwrapped the pieces. After that, we would read the Christmas story together as I set up the nativity just right. I always wanted the shepherds, wisemen, and animals in their proper place. It was a fun time for me and I always admired our “work” during the whole season. I remember on a few occasions that I would sneak in there and play with them like dolls acting out the story. As I grew up and headed off to college, I would come home and see that it wasn’t out. I would ask Granny why and she would say no one even noticed. Then, we would get it out together. I secretly think she was waiting on me. Then, my grandad died on Christmas morning and the holiday got harder to celebrate for Granny. As I married and moved away, I would notice the nativity (and sometimes the tree for that matter) didn’t come out. If I was home early for the holidays, I would talk her into getting them out. Our roles reversed a little with me reading the story while she unwrapped and put everything out. I cherished that time together.

She was the reason I was in church all throughout my teenage years. She made sure to drive across town to get me and drive me back. She would make sure there was money for lock-ins and conferences and activities to keep me involved. My parents wanted me going to church, but Granny made sure it happened.

At some point, Granny began to get sick and wasn’t really our family center anymore. I always felt a little lost without her planning and all the regular things that happened when she was well. She continued to worsen and rarely recognized family or friends. So when my daddy said I could take the nativity home with me after Christmas one year, I was filled with mixed emotions. I wanted it for it’s meaning and for the tradition it held, but it was sad to see that tradition with Granny fade.

My Granny is gone now and I now set up the nativity in my home. As Micah gets older, I look forward to starting over the tradition that meant so much to me. Something so simple meant the world. Now, it is time to start traditions for my little family that will become treasured and special. More on some of my ideas and thoughts later.