My Little Tradition – Part 2


Last year, I shared about one of the nativity sets my family had when I was a child.  (Read last year’s post here) This nativity set wasn’t anything special, a pattern cut out and stitched together. Baby Jesus rested on a pile of batting in a cardboard manger (this was always a point of confusion for my 5 year old brain-it seemed to me that we had poor Jesus resting in snow, which didn’t sound like something you should do to a baby, let alone Jesus).

After reminiscing about my beloved nativity, I asked my mom if I could have it to set out under my tree. She had already read my post and had gone searching for it. Unfortunately, my precious nativity had gone to where all underused items found in parent’s basement go: the thrift shop.  It was lost, gone forever to a good home that would hopefully love my Jesus on his snowy pillow as much as I did.  To say I was a little disappointed would be an understatement.

Christmas passed and then in the middle of January, I was summoned to my parents house. My mom disappeared to the basement and returned with a box. I opened it and, to my surprise, there was the nativity set, complete with little baby Jesus on his bed of snow. After a (very long) explanation, I learned that my mom, seeing my disappointment in the loss of the nativity, had set out on a mission to find one. She searched high and low, hitting every thrift shop in the area,  until finding the last pattern available in the tri-state area. Now, you should know my mom is not a crafter-in fact she has been known to draw crooked  stick figures-but she bought the pattern and with the help of a friend she cut, stitched, and stuffed Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, sheep, and precious baby Jesus together. I was thrilled.

I loved the old nativity scene because it represented a piece of my childhood and happy memories that made me feel safe and surrounded by family and the light of Christmas. And now I have a new nativity scene, one that represents the love of a mother, who searched and stitched to show her love to me,  and the love of a God, who sent His son to search my heart and stitch its wounded pieces back together. Nothing stopped my mom from showing her love to me-and nothing stops our God from showing his love to us.

Jessica Bates


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