"...and a little child shall lead them." Isaiah 11:6
When I was fourteen my Mother had her fifth and last child, a boy that my Father named Zane.
My three other brothers and I were excited to tell Zane as he got older about Baby Jesus, and how Baby Jesus had everything to do with Christmas. Repeatedly telling him that when Christmas morning came he would be the one to put the "baby Jesus" in the manger.
Of course on Christmas morning we all jumped at of bed bright and early, what child doesn't who believes in Santa and celebrates Christmas? Zane seemed to be a bit lackadaisical about the whole thing, and that struck us as odd. But hey he was only a little tot so we figured he didn't really get it yet.
My brothers and I raced into the kitchen, each one of us wanted to be the first one to give baby Jesus to our baby brother Zane. But to our surprise we could not find it. We searched and searched for baby Jesus. Where had he gone? What happened? Hadn't we put him in the kitchen drawer? Who saw him last? After which seemed an eternity looking for the main nativity character, we noticed Zane crying. Gee, maybe he did get it after all. We felt badly for him, poor little guy. We told him not to cry that Jesus lives in our hearts and that the missing plastic baby Jesus was not the real thing, and that Christmas would go on.
Zane looked up to us with his big brown eyes and said, "I threw the baby Jesus in the fire. He was getting too much attention."
We were dumbfounded.
We have never let Zane forget his jealousy.
Merry Christmas dear family and friends.