The beauty of Christmas

Moms know this well: A baby changes everything.

Welcome to Nourish, a free monthly newsletter to help you be kinder to yourself and others. I'm Erin Strybis, a writer, mama, bookworm and believer.  In your December 2023 issue: a tale from Christmas Eve past, nourishing holiday fare and loving phrases to repeat to the children in your life.

Dear reader,

With a whoosh of wind, we opened the door to our church sanctuary. Poinsettias clustered the altar, wreaths decked the walls, and a shining Christmas tree towered beside the organ. Our two-year-old Jack’s eyes grew wide as he took in the decorations. High-pitched giggles and chatter beckoned us forward into the fellowship hall. It was nearly time for the children’s Christmas pageant to begin.

I helped Jack into his gray smock and Jack’s Sunday school teacher handed him his mask. Jack was playing the part of the barn cat, one of the animals who witnessed Jesus’ birth.

On Christmas Eve in our congregation, children become the preachers and act out the Christmas story in worship. It’s a chance for them to imagine themselves in Jesus’ time and walk through the turning point in God’s love story with humanity. God’s love comes to us embodied in baby Jesus, and life will never be the same.

Moms know this well: A baby changes everything.

Our pastor prayed over the group, then the Sunday school teachers ushered the parents out. We took our place in the pews, eager for worship to begin. This was Jack’s first year participating, and my husband Jay and I sat on the edge of our seats watching to see if he’d fare alright. Given his age, I hoped he’d simply follow his part and not get stage fright.

Silver halos bobbed as the children sang out, “Go tell it on the mountain, that Jesus Christ was born!” A cluster of brown-smocked boys huddled in imaginary fields as amazed shepherds. Clutching his barn cat mask, Jack paraded through the sanctuary in a gaggle of barn animals.

But at one point in the performance, Jack began to take off his smock in the middle of a Christmas song. “No Jack-Jack, no,” I murmured, clutching my husband’s hand. I was equal parts humored and anxious. Luckily, a few quick-thinking Sunday School teachers helped redirect Jack after his costume conundrum.

The show must go on, and go on it did, with Jack and the other children standing at the foot of Jesus’ manger. They gazed with reverence at the little babe who was cast to play the part of Jesus, and through their eyes, we saw Jesus’ birth story anew. And when the final Christmas hymn was sung, the congregation gave the children a round of applause for their efforts. Our little barn cat beamed with pride.

To ponder

God’s inviting us to live the Christmas story and share it with others. Find a way to bring the story to life for the children you know: Attend Christmas worship together. Read Luke 2:1‑21 aloud at bedtime, and if they’re reading age, encourage them to read the lines of the angels. Or find a nativity set and have them act out the story while you read from a children’s Bible.

This story is an excerpt from The Beauty of Motherhood: Grace-Filled Devotions for the Early Years, which I wrote with my friend Kimberly Knowle-Zeller. We’re (obviously) biased, but we think our book is a great gift for young mamas in search of spiritual refreshment. Find it at Barnes & Noble (local readers, look for signed copies on the shelf at your Old Orchard store!), Amazon, Target or wherever books are sold.

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NOURISH YOURSELF

’Tis the season for spending extra time in the kitchen — whether you’re hosting, bringing a dish to a party or baking cookies for Santa. In a month when we feel pressure to do all the things, such commitments might seem like just another headache. On the other hand, there’s something sacred about creating sustenance for others. And I wonder, could baking or cooking actually be a means of practicing presence in a season fraught with rushing? Try it. Block extra time to create, light a candle, hit play on the Spotify channel of your choice (currently jamming out to Jacob Collier) and work with fluidity and care. Make a recipe you know by heart or try something new. At the Strybis house, we just discovered this comforting apple sausage stuffed butternut squash, and I’ll also be making this cozy minestrone before the month is up. Need a sweet treat? Try these chewy ginger molasses cookies, which I make every Christmas, or Santa-approved rich brown butter chocolate chip cookies.

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NOURISH OTHERS

The other day I stumbled across this lovely little article about the phrases you repeat to your kids daily. The author, the amazing Jo Goddard, tells her sons “you are the great joys of my life, and there’s nothing you could ever do or say that would make me not love you.” Her words reminded me of my dad, who was a good listener and great encourager when I was growing up (still is!). A quintessential eldest child and perfectionist, I hated messing up on tests or homework. Even small errors upset me. Whenever I vented to him, Dad told me, “Always do your best, baby, that’s all you can do.” 37 years later, I still hear his voice offering this encouragement. Nowadays, I regularly tell my kids, “I love spending time with you.” Simple, loving phrases stitched into the fabric of childhood are one gift kids will cherish for years to come. Do you remember something a grown up told you over and over when you were a kid? And, what’s your go-to loving phase that you repeat to the children in your life? Let’s chat in the comments.

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NOURISHING WORDS

• I am grateful for Jordan Miller-Stubbendick’s eye-opening essay on life in Bethlehem offered through Kim Knowle-Zeller’s The Walking Diaries: “‘It is our culture to be generous,’ Ahmad is saying. ‘If someone passing by takes a fig from my tree to eat, I will not stop him. To be honest, I will say, Take more. It is our way.’”

• On my nightstand: I just finished Jeff Zentener’s In the Wild Light, a gorgeous YA novel that’s laced with hopeful poetry. This coming-of-age tale reflects on the need for poetry, how we grapple with family trauma and the healing love of grandparents.

• Jon Batiste and Suleika Jaouad’s documentary American Symphony is a moving meditation on love, grief and creativity. Of the many lessons offered in this work, I was most inspired by Jon’s Grammy acceptance speech in which he said: “There is no best musician, best artist, best dancer, best actor. The creative arts are subjective and they reach people at a point in their lives when they need it most. … I love music, I’ve been playing since I was a little boy. It’s more than entertainment; it’s a spiritual practice.”

• Recent writing: Busy drafting a couple new essays and prepping for Christmas, I didn’t share much publicly this month. The exception? A raw love note to my youngest: “raising you is my greatest work/and you are the most exquisite kind of art.”

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It is a strange and tender time to be revisiting the Christmas story, isn’t it? As war rages in the Holy Land and beyond it, the song on my lips is, “Peace; be still.” I sing it to my youngest. I hum it in the car. I imagine this song catching in the chilly Chicago wind and sailing places where it’s needed most. My faith tells me that the child we’ll soon celebrate was named the Prince of Peace for a reason: he alone can bring healing to a hurting world.

Trusting in his goodness, I pray the words of St. Francis Assisi: “Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope.” Wherever and however you celebrate the holidays, may the hope of Christmas be with you always.

Grace and peace,

Erin

Thank you, God, for the beauty of Christmas—
for the most holy night on which your son
was born, a sign of hope, grace embodied.
Thank you, God, for our children—
who lead us to marvel at the Christ child.
May we hold fast to our sense of wonder,
may we never tire of living the story,
sharing God’s love with everyone we meet.
Amen.

— excerpt from The Beauty of Motherhood