Once the Sunday of Christ the King has passed, I look for the appropriate place for my Nativity Scene.

Placing these figures out each year allows a time of reflection on the true meaning of Christmas. Advent arrives, and each time I look at the little figures now worn with age, I forget the busyness and focus on the birth of the Christ Child.

I recall Mary’s fiat, Joseph’s dream, their difficult journey towards Bethlehem, the humbling stable, and then, the joy of the baby’s birth.

When the shepherds visit and the Magi bring their gifts, I thank God for the gift of family and friends.

Christmases past were often a time of travel for us as children, with a return to the large home of my paternal grandparents. Often twenty adults would sit around the dining room table, and a dozen or so grandchildren would share time in the kitchen; cherished memories because so many of the participants have gone to the other side, where the veil of life now separates us. Even cousins are passing, and one cannot but wonder when it will be one’s own call.

Advent is a time of anticipation and of memory; the perfect time to reflect on the true meaning of the season of JOY!