I have vivid memories, such vivid memories of the nativity scene that my mother used to lovingly pull from the box of Christmas decorations every year. She would set it up under the branches of our tree and I would lay on my stomach to be face to face with the tiny figure of baby Jesus. The manger was made of bark and moss, an angel in a flowing blue dress perched at the manger's peak. There was Mary and Joseph, the wise men, a shepherd with a lamb over his shoulders.
I loved that manger. Sadly, like the days of my mother pulling it from the box, that manger is no more. It was lost in a house fire four years ago. But it's still in my memories every Christmas. It's amazing how wonderful childhood memories stay with you and can still warm your heart years later. My mother gave me those memories, she made and handcrafted each one - and there are so many. How she loved Christmas. How I love Christmas still.
I don't own a manger like the one of my memories. I will one day, but like most things in life, they don't come cheap. But I wanted a manger under the tree for Georgia this year. And my husband helped me start this memory for her after he bought the child-friendly one I'd been eying.
Georgia is still trying to figure out what memories this new addition will hold for her.