After Cindy finished her reading, Grandma approached me and gave me the honor for the following year. I went from mad to terrified almost instantly! I fretted for a few weeks, then put it out of my mind until the following Thanksgiving, when my anxiety began anew. And, a few weeks before Christmas, when I took a look at the passage in the Bible, and saw words like Cyrenius, Judea, and a lot of others I couldn’t pronounce, I was ready to leave the country and come back after the holidays were over!
But my moment of honor came, and I did fine. I really don’t remember who got The Nod for the following year, or the year after that. Once my feelings of adoration, anger, terror, and glory came and went, who did the reading didn’t seem all that important anymore.
Despite the mix of emotions I had over this tradition, two years ago I decided to revive it within my own granddaughters. I’m up to three of them now, although only two can read. And I sincerely hope that as the years go on, none of them get jealous or angry or stressed about it. Because this is the unparalleled story of hope and redemption for all people, and that, after all, is something to celebrate.
Have a Blessed Christmas!
Graphic courtesy of Atlantic Fish