The last light in the nativity scene has been turned on. The room is dimly lit. Blue and yellow sparkles glitter in the building’s windows. There’s just the reflection of a silver foil river, which runs through the fields, and the light in the barn, which shines on a still empty white manger. There is a pile of gifts and bags of food in the parish, which the needy will welcome with grateful tears, and there is a destitute child crying with joy in some hospital upon receiving the surprise performance of his favorite artist.

It is the grandparents who have passed on to us the legacy of this blessed Christian tradition.
There is magical light in the stars; there is special warmth in the hugs; there is unprecedented brightness in the gazes. It is the Holy Waiting. The Christ Child is going to be born. And the world will never be the same again. Like us, we will never be the same.
Every year, Christmas is a hopeful reminder: Hatred has lost, division has failed, evil does not have the last word. In these days, when nations seem torn in half, when politics is a dumping ground for evil, and when culture seems to have forgotten its old purpose of discovering beauty, the family Christmas dinner confirms that we live only in a horrible, nightmarish mirage. Evil seems so strong, powerful, and muscular until the Child God appears, then it melts, fades, and dissipates. And of course, unity, love, good, and beauty triumph.
These days are for looking at children and listening to the elderly. Days of charity. Days to smile. Days of hugging. Days to pray in front of the Nativity Scene some of the prayers we learned as children. And to take care of the eldest in the family. It is the grandparents who have passed on to us the legacy of this blessed Christian tradition. It is they, those who may not be around next Christmas, to whom we owe gratitude and affection.
How important are these days to teach grandchildren to spend a lot of time with grandparents, to hold on to their wrinkled ...