Every year, unboxing the Christmas ornaments is an exercise in breath-holding. Because some of these ornaments date from my childhood years, age and wear and the elements sometimes get the better of them. And I always end up with a small bunch of ornaments laid on the kitchen counter, precious because of the memories they hold, but bearing the wounds of a year on the shelf. It's then that I make one of many holiday pilgrimages to the store for super glue.
My holiday decorating is a balancing act between the precious and the pasted-together.
When I think of the Biblical account of Jesus' birth, I think things might have felt much the same for the cast of characters. so many details feel cobbled together with tape and glue: a man and his really-pregnant with definitely-not-his-baby almost-wife shows up in his kinfolks' town, and finds no one to take them in; angels sing the most glorious birth announcement to clueless shepherds, who were generally suspicious in polite society; magi are wise enough to follow star charts to a new king, and clueless enough to blab about it to the murderous, jealous current one.
And in a surprising synthesis of solid gold and super glue, Love was born.
And every little thing is gonna be alright.
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