Note to Readers:  This is a guest blog written by my little brother Eric.  I asked Eric to tell me the story of the Christmas Creche that my mother loved so much.  He sent me this beautiful piece full of the love and devotion that our Mother inspired in us.  I want to share it with you as another wonderful example of how God works in our lives.  He spreads His love through the love of a mother for her children; through her teachings; her caring; her example.  This little brother, the 8^th child, is now in his 50’s, a devoted husband and father, a tenured law professor and author and a really good guy!  I hope that you enjoy this peak into our childhood and remember that God loves you unconditionally.  Merry Christmas!
Terri

The Christmas manger was always a big part of our celebration growing up. We had a set of colorful papier-mâché figurines that showed the wear and tear of nine children setting up and taking down the nativity scene over many years. By the time I was involved in setting up the manger as the 8^th of nine children, some of the figures had lost a hand or two and bare spots on halos and robes had to be politely ignored.

The wear and tear were probably exacerbated by a couple of traditions we observed, perhaps unique to our house. First, the three wise men would start out at various places around the house and slowly make their way to the manger in time for the Epiphany. Second, the baby Jesus would start his journey from on top of a high bookcase and slowly descend, shelf by shelf, until Christmas day when he would appear in the manger.

The manger itself varied from year to year and was in most cases a shoebox that was fashioned into a makeshift stable by having a window or two cut in it and some hay placed strategically to create a stall.  Of course, it was also painted so they didn’t just look like a Thom McAn shoe box, but it was still pretty low budget.

In the early 1970s my mother saw an article in a women’s magazine, and she clipped it out.  She had a habit of doing that.  She maintained a file of projects that she would get to some day.  She showed that article to me.  It was a beautifully rendered rustic creche with stalls, a loft, indirect lighting, and a cheesecloth backdrop. I was probably 11 or 12 and I agreed it was quite beautiful.

The next Christmas I tried making that creche without success.  It was beyond my skills and there were other more pressing matters to attend to, such as my paper route, homework, and other things that occupy a preteen’s attention.

Years went by, and in 1979 when I was home from college, my brothers John and Pierre were making Christmas presents in the basement using a multi-tool called a ShopSmith. They were constructing cutting boards to give as presents and in the process of making the precise cuts for their projects they were creating waste wood that looked very much like a plank for a rough-hewn shelter. It occurred to me that those waste slices of wood would be perfect for making the creche project that still lingered in the back of my mind.

I began constructing the creche from memory, since the inspirational article was long gone. I created the mossy roof and the rough-hewn sides and the stalls and the loft and the little ladder and the cheesecloth backdrop. The challenging thing in the days before the Internet was to find appropriately sized figurines. I went to the Catholic bookstore where there was a wide array of nativity figurines for sale. Luckily, I found a lovely set that was to scale.

We kept the creche project a secret from mom until the big reveal, when we brought it up from the cellar with all the figures and a fresh paintjob and a light shining on the Holy Family.  When she saw it, she couldn’t have been happier.   She had remembered that unfinished project, too.  Part of her joy in that moment was seeing the lovely nativity scene, and part of it was the unexpected fulfillment of a long ago promise. It was one of the best Christmas presents I have ever given.