When most people think about decorating for Christmas, evergreen wreaths, sparkling lights, nativity scenes, and poinsettias are probably the first associations they make. For me, however, seasonal decorating begins with Chinese takeout boxes. Years ago, in an attempt to make an Advent calendar that accounted for the yearly fluctuation of days in the season, my mom bought medium-sized pink and purple takeout containers from Michaels, numbered each with silver and gold paint pens, and set them on the mantel. Each was filled with pieces from our Fontanini nativity set (and sometimes a riddle, written by Dad, leading to the discovery of a new Christmas puzzle), and we siblings took turns opening a box every day. In addition to this daily ritual, there were also packages to be opened, numbered to correspond with the day’s box, and they contained some of our dearest friends.
In preparation for Advent, Mom sorts out our 100-plus holiday books, grouping them based on reading level, feast day, activity, or version of ’Twas the Night Before Christmas (I believe we have eight this year, each rendered by a different illustrator). We then divvy those into stacks, one for each day leading up to Christmas, bind them with twine, and order them by the fireplace. Every day, the faces of our beloved friends delight us as we untie the new stack and sit down to read. Ask me to name them all, and I’d be hard-pressed. Seven, however, are consistent favorites, beautiful tales that have driven the Christmas message home to me for many a year now. As always, it starts with a dash of humor.
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