Long ago my grandparents gave my brother a book of children's Bible stories. It's been well loved and used, the spine is a bit cracked, and the pages are brittle and yellowish. Somehow I ended up with the book many years ago. When my son was born, I began a tradition on Christmas Eve of reading to him the four-five page story of the Birth of Baby Jesus: The First Christmas. Then along came my daughter and we added her to the mix. This is the last thing we would do before turning out the lights so they could wait for Santa Claus.
Tonight, for the 20th year, I will sit on my son's bed, with my daughter next to me, and I'll read them the story again. I love doing this. They don't seem to mind, adult and young adult as they are. And when the time comes, down the road, and they have children of their own, I hope they continue this tradition, or even let me have the honor.
Merry Christmas to you all! May you have the peace, love, and promise of the Season, found in the small package of a Baby.