Today is the day before my birthday. It’s a big one this year - with a 9 at the end. But since the alternative to turning this age isn’t very pleasant, I’m leaning into it right now. Having a December birthday has always been a mixed blessing to me. December 12th seems to be when everyone swings into the holiday season. It’s also the feast day of Our Lady of Guadalupe, . But having a birthday two weeks before the big day meant I got a lot of birthday/Christmas presents rolled into one.

December is also the month of short days and long nights. Today the sun sets at 4:27 in Oregon! When I lived in Illinois, it was the month of cold and snow. Now that I live in Portland it means rain, lots of rain.

Last year my birthday was difficult even though I got to spend it in Paris. It was my first after my mother’s death a little over a month before, the first time I wouldn’t hear her wishes for the day. She often sent me flowers, telling the florist to make sure there was nothing Christmasy about them. There won’t be any more of those.

As I get ready to celebrate another birthday without her, I feel a little tightening of my throat. I wonder if this will happen every year from now on. I suspect it might.

A few weeks ago my friend Andrea Eschen wrote about Spanish Nativity scenes for her Substack site, Snippets from Spain. (Read it HERE) I was happy to learn some history about Nativity scenes since they played a big part in my childhood. Even though my mother was a staunch Methodist, her Nativity scenes, or crèches as she called them (a word she was quite fond of even though I doubt she knew it was French!) were an important part of her Christmas decorations.

Reading Andrea’s post made me remember that the crèches I saw in France last year helped me through that difficult birthday. I wished my mother could have seen them.

I visited Saint-Ambroise on my birthday. I was surprised to find they make claims that the church was visited by Our Lady of Guadalupe in the 19th century!

Their Nativity scene was surrounded by fragrant pine trees. Standing in front of it brought back so many memories of past Christmases. Even though I am not really a believer, I lit a candle.

I visited another wonderful crèche in Strasbourg Cathedral after wandering through that city’s marvelous Christmas Market. I was fascinated to see a Bible in the manger, not baby Jesus. I guess he appears there on Christmas Day. And yes, I lit another candle.

This year I am back in Portland for the holidays. This being my birthday week - and the official start of the holidays, my sister and I put up our Christmas tree. At the foot, I placed the Nativity scene that my mother took out of its box every December for over fifty years. This Nativity scene holds a special meaning for me.

When I was old enough to watch over my three younger siblings, our parents would take we four kids to a mall near the Chicago suburb where we lived. One year - I think I was about twelve - when it came time to buy presents for Mom, I convinced my siblings to pool our money and buy her a Nativity scene. We bought it at Woolworth’s, a chain of Five and Dime stores that doesn’t exist anymore.

The ceramic figures looked just like the big ones in the Nativity scene at our church. It had Made in Italy stamped on the back. I was so proud of that gift.

Now that my mother is gone, that crèche sits under my Christmas tree. It’s a little worse for wear. At some point my mother patched the roof with a piece of brown paper cut from a grocery bag. Looking at the makeshift fix makes me smile. That frugal resourcefulness represents my mother more than any sparkly lights.

Today the sun will set in just about an hour. I’ll light the Christmas tree and some candles and perhaps pour a glass of wine to toast my mother - and myself. After all, I’ve made it another year. Then I’ll sit back and lean into the light.

Lean into the Light

Beyond Bonjour