Lauren van Vliet, author

Growing up, my Oma (grandmother) would invite her grandkids over to help set up the Nativity scene at her house. She would get out her shoebox filled with the chipped porcelain figurines, all wrapped in old newspapers. We would scramble to unwrap them quickly, grouping them together on the coffee table: shepherds and their sheep, Mary and Joseph with their donkey, the three wise men.

When all the figurines were unwrapped, Oma would place the wooden stable on the hearth, and we would gather around to listen to the story, and place the figurines.

As the oldest grandchild present, I would read the Gospel from an old missalette, as the others would add the appropriate pieces to the scene. Mary and Joseph would arrive with their donkey and take their places in the middle, with the empty manger. Next the angel would appear, and then the shepherds and their sheep. The wise men and their camel would stay off to the side until we celebrated Epiphany.

Finally, after all the other figurines were in place, the youngest person would put baby Jesus in the manger – because technically we were still in the Advent season, and baby Jesus shouldn’t be placed in the manger until Christmas day.

It’s been many years since I set up a Nativity scene with my Oma, but it is among my most treasured memories. It was always the same story and the same figurines that we set up in the same way: the manager in the middle, with Mary and Joseph behind it. The wise men paraded in from one side, and the shepherds and their flock on the other, leaving the space in front of the manger open.

Each of us participating became part of the scene on the hearth. And each year we changed and grew, but no matter how big we grew or how we changed, there was always space at the manager.

What was true when I was fourteen, is still true now that I’m 32 – there is space for me at the manager. There is space for the joys and grief, for my hope and sorrow. There is space for me to join with Mary in pondering how God is at work in the events of my life (Lk 2:19). And there is space for God to change my mind and heart, like he did Joseph’s (Mt 1:18-24). There is space for praising with the shepherds (Lk 2:20), and adoring with the wise men (Mt 2:11).

As I journey through this last week of Advent, I am asking: what am I bringing to the manger this year? What are the joys and sorrows? What am I pondering? What decisions am I making? What prayer intentions?

These are deep, rich questions; good fodder to consider as the calendar year winds down. Regardless of what answers come, I take heart that there will always be room to visit the manager, and wonder at the mystery that is Emmanuel – God with us.