Christmas Eve was ever my favorite time. Daddy was home and genial – so that was possible. The tree glittered; the house smelled of pine. Anticipation made everyone nicer. I played Christmas carols on the piano.

We felt like a family, that is, like other families for once. Typically we felt like a battalion, reporting for duty, keeping our uniforms clean. Each of the five children was scheduled, but seldom together. I remember battling but seldom playing with my sisters and brother. When I visited classmates’ houses, parents hugged, people laughed. No one in our house hugged or laughed. Emotional displays were discouraged, I’m not sure why.

Each kid had our own room and lived mostly alone. Privacy is the price of privilege. There were lots of rules. On Christmas Eve, rules were relaxed. We left early for the candlelight service because church would be crowded. Snow or not we had to wrap warmly. Seven in Daddy’s car seems a lot, but it was a big car, four in the back, three in the front. There were no seatbelts then. We knew plenty of people in the graveyard but none of our family yet. Daddy had purchased a big shady plot, with room for us all. It would have angered him to know how soon he’d be stationed there. No one else in the family other than Mom seems destined to be so the big plot feels as lonely as our house did.

I loved the feeling of family in the Christmas story. The Bible doesn’t have many cozy family stories; this may be the only one.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedAnd so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that (Mary) should be delivered.

And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night.

And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid.

And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, which is Christ the Lord.

And this shall be a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying,

Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.

Sixty years later I can still say these words by heart because they are in my heart. In church, in the front left pew, you could see Joseph and Mary and the shepherds and the three kings (who arrived later) almost life-sized, gathered around the manger. Have you ever heard the word manger except in this story? How tenderly Mary gazes at her baby. I wanted to be in a manger, surrounded, not in my clean sheets alone.

My heart aches to return – not to my childhood, but to that dream – of Mary, Joseph, Jesus, gladness, shepherds; to the carols and pine scent and the possibility of tenderness. I strove to bring that dream to my kids, and now our grandkids. Hideous headlines notwithstanding, salvation is possible! I’m not sure what salvation means, but it does not mean today. We can be so much better than we are.