Christmas reprise: And a little child shall lead them

One of my favorite Christmas stories...

Did anyone notice anything unusual about the photo of the Fontanini Nativity in the entry I made on Tuesday? No? Look again:

See the #1 candle in the back of the stable? That's been a permanent fixture in this Nativity scene for the past five or six years. The story of how it got there is one of my favorite Christmas stories:

I had put out all the Christmas decorations and had them arranged just as I liked them. One day I walked past the Fontanini Nativity and saw the candle I'd used on the kids' first birthday cakes standing against the wall in the stable.

I took the candle out and put it in the junk drawer. A day or so later, it was back in the stable. Again, I put it in the junk drawer. The next day, I saw Annie putting it in the stable again.

"Annie! Stop messing with my Nativity," I said. "Get that candle out of there."

Setting her up to see how clever she was, I went on...

"That candle does not belong in the Nativity," I goaded, waiting for her to refute me with the reminder that Christmas is indeed the birthday of Jesus.

"Yes it does," she said as she took the bait.

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"I put that candle in the stable because Jesus is number one!"

And so every year, that polka-dotted candle takes its place in the stable behind the Baby Jesus to help us remember that whether the gifts are bought, the cookies are baked, the cards are sent, what really matters is that Jesus is, indeed, #1.

Originally posted on December 24, 2008.

A date with John Denver

It's been raining here for about three days, leaving me feeling melancholy and tired. So tonight after dinner seemed the perfect time to fire up the PBS special on John Denver that I DVR'd the other night.

Now, I know what you're thinking. John Denver? John Denver?!

In my own defense, I think I've always been an old soul. Either that or I just imprinted on my parents extremely well. Or I'm just a nerd at heart. I was the kid who called up WING radio in Dayton to complain when they switched from a talk format to top 40s. I cut my teeth on the Carpenters.

So tonight, I was in the mood for a little John Denver. My children, however, were not.

As soon as Denver's shaggy-haired, bespectacled self appeared on the screen singing "Calypso," there were protests.

"Mom! Not this! I want to watch Transformers," Robbie argued.

"That guy has dorky glasses," observed Charlie. I assured him that he would be wearing different glasses in a few minutes.

"Is this what you and your friends used to listen to?" Annie wanted to know. I told her that I really didn't listen to or talk about music with my friends. She looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language. A minute later, she retreated upstairs.

With Annie gone, Robbie laid on the floor whining about not wanting to watch John Denver and hollering "Not this song again!" for about four different songs.

Charlie, however, watched somewhat intently. I thought I might have another old soul on my hands, or at least someone who appreciated John Denver like I do. Denver appeared on the screen in a different concert venue, indeed wearing circular, wire-framed glasses this time.

"Is that the same guy?" Charlie asked.

"Yep."

"His glasses are still dorky."

By now, I was ignoring Robbie and enjoying "Annie's Song." Charlie was still watching and listening and apparently getting past the whole eyewear thing. After "Annie's Song" was "Sunshine on My Shoulders," which got this reaction from Robbie:

"This movie is gonna make me throw up. It's giving me a headache."

He didn't throw up and Charlie and I continued to watch as Denver belted out "Rocky Mountain High" and "Thank God, I'm a Country Boy." Charlie actually seemed to be enjoying himself -- and John Denver.

"Do you like this music?" I asked him. "We could download some for your iPod," I offered.

"No," he said quite matter of factly and without hesitation.

Well, maybe I'll download some for my iPod.