Like many of us, I cherish our nativity set. It’s been the heart of our Advent and Christmas traditions for over 20 years—a spectacular creche, not life-size, but substantial enough to command attention. Each year, my daughter takes great delight in arranging the figures just so, saving the placement of Baby Jesus for Christmas morning. Some years, we’ve even had miniature bales of craft-store hay, each strand lovingly added to the manger as our kind deeds created a soft bed for the infant King.
But this year? This year is different.
Our house is mid-remodel. Walls have come down, disarray reigns, and my treasured nativity has no grand display. Instead, taking center stage beneath our towering nine-foot Christmas tree, sits…the Fisher-Price nativity set.
This well-loved toy has survived four children and nine grandchildren, including our newest little pandemic grandbaby, who is nearly 18 months old. I can’t wait for her to toddle over, push the angel to hear the songs of Christmas, and discover the magic of the little manger scene under the tree.
Each morning, I sip my coffee, tree lights glowing, soaking in the beauty of the season. Stillness, prayer, and joy fill the quiet.
And then along came Alfred.
Alfred, my trusty robot vacuum, is programmed to run every morning. He’s excellent at tackling desert dust and pet hair, but Alfred has developed a curious habit: he’s obsessed with Baby Jesus.
Without fail, Alfred crashes into the Fisher-Price creche like he’s on a mission. The Magi are scattered like bowling pins, Mary and Joseph are sent sprawling, and Baby Jesus? Well, he’s gone on an adventure. Every morning, I find myself hunting down Jesus, resetting the Magi, and repairing the scene.
At first, I thought, Why not move the set? Or block Alfred? Great ideas, sure, but somehow, every day, I let it be. Maybe it was laziness. Or maybe, just maybe, it was divine intervention.
Because as the days went on, Alfred taught me something profound.
Every morning began the same way: coffee in hand, lights on the tree, and then…Find Baby Jesus. Nothing else could happen until He was back in His proper place.
This odd ritual became a sacred act. As I searched for Jesus, placing Him back in the manger, I realized the deeper truth: before anything else, I must start my day by finding Jesus.
Alfred, in his bumbling way, showed me a profound truth. Life is full of distractions, chaos, and unexpected detours—just like Alfred scattering the Magi. Yet no matter how far I wandered, Jesus was always there, waiting to be found.
Now, each morning, I begin with Him. I find Jesus—physically in this quirky ritual, spiritually in my prayers—and ensure He is in His proper place in my home, my life, and my heart.
This Christmas season, I invite you to do the same. No matter how busy, no matter the distractions, start each day by finding Him. Let Him take His place at the center of your life.
“And you will seek me and find me when you search for me with all your heart.” – Jeremiah 29:13
