You know this story

a Christmas card

My younger daughter picks up each character in our manger scene. She holds up a donkey - “donkey,” I say. “Don-teee,” she repeats in adorable near-two-year-old-ease. Then she picks up Mary.

She knows Mary - from the stained glass at church, from the statue in the garden - but she also knows my friend Mary, my friend Mariam, and Mary had a little lamb. It’s hard to establish these distinctions. So I elaborate - “yes, Mary, Jesus’ Mama.”

A look of cheerful recognition spreads across her face. “Mama,” she says contentedly, before picking up St. Joseph. “Dada,” she asserts, not bothering to ask my opinion anymore. She understands the setup now - A Mama, A Dada, waiting for a baby.

A family.

The saccharine displays and repetitive nature of the Christmas Story can sometimes numb us to the strangeness and absurdity of the Incarnation.

“This is the irrational season / when Love blooms bright and wild

Had Mary been filled with reason / there’d have been no room for the child.”¹

But I also think this familiarity is beautiful, and as it should be. This is a story we know. Of course, it wasn’t the story that was expected - the warrior Messiah, the sword-wielding King of righteousness, but nevertheless, even with its elements of magic - the angels, the Virgin birth - this was (is) a common story of Love, Sacrifice, Hope, and Redemption -

it is the Story of a Human Family.

And it is always those human moments - weeping at Lazarus’ death, breaking bread with the disciples, the little children at His robes, the weeping mother at the cross - that will break and move our hearts.

When I have a hard time believing in these things, I think of Jean Valjean. I think of Aragorn. I think of Jo March. I think of Meg Murry and Charles Wallace. I think of Kristin Lavransdatter. I think of Lucy. I think of Aslan.

I never have a hard time believing these stories. You know the very feeling: when you close a book that has wrecked and repaired something deep inside you, and the whole world is silent and twilight. These stories Are True, in the deepest, most abiding way.

Deep magic, indeed.

So the Christmas Story is one that should be deeply familiar. You have seen it many times. You have certainly played some of the roles - child, mother, father. “And there is no greater Love than this, to lay down one’s Life for one’s friends.” Friend.

And so we are asked, year after year, to be like children. To believe in things beyond our imaginings, to trust the generosity of the world, to rest in the vulnerability of a baby in a manger.

I am dutifully signing off for the rest of Advent and Christmas until the New Year, so consider this my digital Christmas card. A very happy, Merry Christmas I wish each of you — thank you sincerely for seeking out these stories, for believing them, for living them.

I will be back in 2025 with new ideas, some changes, certainly lots of reflection (I’m a New Years goals lover, watch out). In the meantime, rest, rejoice.

Christmas comes whether we’re ready or not - after all, Charlie Brown’s sad-looking Christmas Tree does not transform into a full and healthy fir. Reminded by Linus what the Season is really about - “unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord” - Charlie Brown’s friends realize they’ve been looking at things all wrong.

“I never thought it was such a bad little tree,” says Linus. “Maybe it just needs a little love.”

x

In case you missed it…

Haley Stewart

on Honoring Women's Experiences and Exploring The Catholic Imagination

What Shall Not Be Overcome

On venerating St. Thomas Aquinas' Skull

This episode I produced and hosted for The Smithsonian and it was very wholesome - good recipes, good food.

What I’m reading…

I just finished The Secret History and I’m still reeling.

I read five Sally Hepworth novels in about as many days and remember exactly nothing about them, so I don’t even know if I could recommend them or not, but they were engrossing when I was still head-stuffy from a lingering sinus infection.

Still working my way through: Paul: A Biography by N.T. Wright

What I’m listening to..

This playlist makes me feel festive but also like I’m a medieval maiden awaiting a quest, so it’s truly a win-win.

I’m also listening to repeated, loud rounds of Rockin’ Around The Christmas Tree and Deck the Halls, the girls’ favorites.

What I’m watching…

Gilmore Girls (again). I cried during Rory’s graduation. What is wrong with me? Just reached the Yale years, here we go.

The Sound of Music. Just the opening scene could make me cry. Why am I becoming such a crier?

The Magpie, Claude Monet

I’m writing this on the winter solstice, and the temperature is dropping. It will get even colder tomorrow. The wind is blowing, the stars are bright. The romantic in me finds this dramatic and beautiful.

If winter still seems too harsh to you, look at the gentle light in Monet’s winter scenes. That light is there out your window too, I promise.

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, God bless you and keep you,

Peace and good Tidings, Great Joy,

Katie

1. “After Annunciation,” Madeleine L’Engle