When I was a little girl, I could not figure out what all the whoopla was about Santa Claus. It was a charming story--but my problem was I knew kids who were pretty good all year long, who weren't rewarded at Christmas, as were some of the meaner kids I knew from school, who seemed to have it all. I didn't think Santa was all that fair. Besides, I liked the idea that my parents were our gift-givers. We didn't have much in those days--but we were very happy.
I loved the romance and danger of the ancient story of Joseph and Mary. I was so intrigued by the singing angels, shepherds and the tiny baby miraculously conceived. There were wise men who followed a shining star to where the child was. They brought him amazing gifts. There was a jealous, deceitful king who sought after the child's life--yet miraculously, through the intervention of angels, they escaped.
I still am filled with awe as I consider the mystery and beauty of that wonderful old story.