Then, my family would pile into the car together, and drive the hour or so to Grandma and Grandpa Schrag's
house in Pretty Prairie, Kansas. There we would gather with family, aunts, uncles, cousins, and Great-aunt Ida for a wonderful Christmas lunch. In the afternoon, we would exchange gifts, but before that happened, we would all sit quietly while Grandmother read the Christmas story for Luke, King James version.
I can still hear her words quietly speaking-she told the story to us long after Alzheimer's had claimed most of her higher level thinking. But for those few minutes, she knew her place and filled her role of matriarch.
"And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be taxed. (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city. And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:) To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn."
That, more than anything is what I think of when I think of the meaning of Christmas-gathering around with family, and sharing together this story, about a boy born in Bethlehem, about to set out on a remarkable journey to reshape the world through both strength and weakness.
Blessings on you and yours this Christmas day.
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