I can't remember who, amidst hugs and kisses goodbye in the foyer, called out, "Look at the nativity set!"
And this is what we saw:
We smiled and chuckled at the sight of the Disney princesses paying homage to the newborn Christ child. My four year-old daughter searched our faces, trying to determine whether we were admiring her handiwork or admonishing her.
Other than the fact that I prefer to think that Sleeping Beauty, being a true lady, would ride her camel sidesaddle, I thought the placement was perfect.
The story of the first Christmas is already so fantastic: A baby, born in a stable among animals? A newly married couple, the bride just a mere teenager? She, certainly with an aching back and swollen feet, miles away from home, jostling around on the back of a donkey before searching frantically for a room in a crowded city? Then Joseph and Mary, feeling that tired exhilaration of holding their first child, excited to get to know their son, but overwhelmed with self doubt that they wouldn't be good enough parents?
Then to top it all off, the three kings show up.
It's a story that becomes humdrum if we let it. We've heard it so many times that our ears gloss over the fantastic details. Face it—if we think we're stressed at Christmas, we've got nothing on Mary. We get bogged down with upholding our Christmas traditions and making sure everything goes smoothly. And we forget that the very first Christmas was anything but traditional. Hardly anything went according to plan.
And I, like I suspect so many mothers at Christmas time, feel overwhelmed. The children are overindulged with the excess sweets, and there is mounting pressure to buy the right gifts, get the right decorations, invite the right people to Christmas dinner. Every commercial is drowned out by the little voices yelling, "I want that! I want that!"
Thank goodness for four year-old girls, for breaking the tension with a little unintentional humor. And the more I think of it, the sight of Ariel, Cinderella, Aurora and Belle looking lovingly at the Christ child doesn't seem so unlikely after all. The kings came bearing gifts after all, didn't they? I like to think that princesses would've shown up with a lovely layette for the baby, like good girlfriends do: something good quality, practical, yet lavishly beautiful. Egyptian cotton with a high thread count.
Cinderella, knowing how important it is for a woman to feel beautiful, would've brought Mary some fluffy slippers or a silk robe. She'd say, "Honey, you don't look like you just had a baby. You look great." Then she'd whisper conspiratorially, "Make sure Joseph lets you get a little me-time, okay?"
This Distracted Mommy wishes you and yours a warm and blessed Christmas. Try to enjoy the simple things. Let the unexpected happen.
