Joel was always the first to wake on Christmas morning, though usually at some inhuman hour like four A.M. This led to the instigation of the “sunrise rule,” which basically meant no waking our parents before there was discernible sunlight. It was overcast that morning so Joel got away with fudging it a little.

In our home, Christmas morning was governed by ironclad tradition. Every year we started Christmas by gathering in my parents’ bedroom to read the second chapter of Luke. I don’t know how my mother remembered whose turn it was each year, or even if she really did, but she always seemed to know.

That morning it was my turn to read. In years past, fueled by the anticipation of Christmas surprises, I read as fast as humanly possible until my mother would tell me to slow down enough to be understood, or at least to auctioneer speed. This morning I was perfectly articulate. Partially because I was growing up and partially because, for the first time in my life, the words actually meant something to me.

And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed…

As I thoughtfully read the words Joel looked crazed with anticipation. My father looked just as eager for me to finish but only because he wanted to go back to bed. Only my mother was smiling.

…And Joseph also went up from Galilee…unto the city of David…to be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child. And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she 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.

I suppose that it meant more to me now that I understood a little of what Mary was going through. Grace was with child, and I took her in. The clubhouse was like a stable or at least not a whole lot nicer.

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

After I read the scripture, my mother led us in a family prayer, then my dad got out his windup Brownie movie camera and went out into the living room to wait for us, shouting instructions like a Hollywood movie director.

Not surprisingly, there weren’t a lot of presents that year and my parents had strategically spaced them to make it look like more. I noticed that except for the insignificant gifts that Joel and I had bought for them, they hadn’t bought gifts for each other.

Joel got a new baseball mitt and bat, which was all he really wanted, a navy blue sweater and gray pants, and the ball and baseball cards I had bought him.