Christmas Past

This is a picture of the Nativity scene in front of the City Hall in the town where I grew up. This picture, taken from the local newspaper, is from around the mid to late 70's when my girls were small. Attached to the City Hall was the Fire Department, where my girlfriend's dad had worked for as long as I can remember.

My parents lived in the same house, the house they built in 1941, until my dad died in 1998. At the time of this story, the girls and I lived in the neighboring county but visited my folks a lot, especially during the Christmas season.

I was driving home one evening with the girls and the 37 imaginary bluebirds that accompanied my oldest daughter everywhere. Thank goodness I had a pickup truck. It was raining and the weather was as close to winter as it ever got there. We were driving past the City Hall when my daughter screamed for me to stop. I did, you know that graceful way you stop when a 3 year old is screaming?

She was crying because the Baby Jesus was getting wet.

We took one of her sister's receiving blankets and covered the Baby as best as we could and went home.

I did not tell anyone this story but the word got out when my girlfriend's dad returned the blanket, washed and folded, to my mom.

All of the years after that, the Baby had his "swaddling clothes" when He was laid in the manger.

I have always been nurtured by small towns and the good folks who live in them.