My mother collects Nativity sets. Over the past 35 years, friends and family have given her all types, made out of everything from porcelain to paper. At Christmastime, she displays more than 170 Nativities. They serve as a reminder of the true meaning of Christmas.

One year, Mom shared with our family part of her collection:hand-carved, wooden figures that my children, Kody and Dakayla, were thrilled to set up inside a rugged crèche. Seeing their enthusiasm, my mother smiled warmly but cautioned, "Just be sure the children are careful … you won't be able to replace any of the pieces, and you'll want the set to be complete. …"

"Oh, they'll be careful. And they're only going to play with them in the dining room," I assured her as I expressed my gratitude. Filled with Christmas cheer (or perhaps deluded by it), I had absolute confidence in my then-4-year-old son and his 2-year-old sister. Besides, having a Nativity scene that the children could play with would be a great way to teach them about the Christmas story.

Sure enough, the children spent hours in imaginative play with Mary, Joseph, three wise men and their camels, three shepherds and their sheep, one angel, and, most importantly, a tiny carved interpretation of the Baby Jesus, whom they could actually lift out of a wooden manger. They created elaborate dramas. The characters spoke with great passion and fervor. My children are sooo creative, I boasted silently, listening from the kitchen.

The AWOL Virgin
I should have known something was about to go awry the day Mary yelled at the shepherds for tracking mud into the stable. Perhaps the children weren't getting what this was all about … Oh well, they are only 2 and 4, I reasoned.

Then, it happened. One day, I walked into the dining room and the stable was empty. Where had Mary and Joseph and their entourage made off to? Upon further exploration, I found the Nativity set piled in a heap in the toy room. I counted the pieces. A lamb was missing. At least it's not Mary or Joseph, I said to myself, or Jesus. I gasped at the thought of the missing Christ child. Anything but Jesus, Lord, just don't let them lose Jesus, I prayed.

After admonishing the children to play with the Nativity scene only in the dining room, I returned the pieces, sans one lamb, to their stable. I wish I could say they all lived happily ever after there. Alas, if they had, their story would not have made it into this Christmas narrative.

In the days that followed, my "admonitions" grew harsher as I seemed to be tripping constantly over wooden figures, in every room except the dining room. Now Mary was missing.

"How can we have a Nativity scene without Mary?" I complained. Kody, using his ever-keen problem-solving skills, pointed out that the one shepherd had long hair and was kneeling; that shepherd could pretend he was Mary until the real Mary showed up.

My Christmas cheer had faded. "Mary's never coming back," I announced resolutely.

But I was wrong. She did come back … a whole year later! The very day I pulled the Christmas decorations out of the attic to usher in a new Christmas season, I happened to be re-organizing in the basement as well (the joy of multi-tasking!).

Apparently, Mary had decided to spend her off-holiday months in a far corner of the basement, between the two-by-fours of a raised storage platform. A lovely place to get away from it all, I'm sure. (We mothers of little ones will take any break we can get!) I looked into the crack, and though it was dark and shadowy, I saw the young maiden and recognized her right away. I was pleasantly surprised.

"Look, kids, it's Mary!"

I took quick advantage of the opportunity to warn the children once again about the dangers of taking Baby Jesus and His family into the basement. The Lord was teaching them a lesson here. I was sure of it!

They assured me they'd play with the Nativity only in the dining room.

The Empty Manger
The very next day, I found the pieces of the Nativity strewn all over the living room. Had my children learned nothing from the Year of the Missing Mary? Irritated, I chastised Kody and Dakayla as I gathered the pieces from beneath the rocking chair and from around the hearth. Placing them back in the crèche, I realized that my worst fear about the miniature holy family had come to pass. Baby Jesus was missing!

I searched high and low: from bedrooms to basement and back again. All around the living room. I was livid! How could the children lose Baby Jesus like that? What was a manger scene without Baby Jesus? I fussed and fumed, determined to find the absent figure. "If Baby Jesus ever does turn up, he will not leave the dining room! Do you understand me?" I thundered, using my most disgusted (or disgusting!) of all mother-voices.

Another voice followed, one within me. It said, "You shall not make for yourself an idol in the form of anything in heaven above or on the earth beneath … You shall not bow down to them or worship them … "

I knew in that moment that I had a bigger problem to deal with than searching for a tiny carved figure to fill an empty carved manger.

Immediately, I thought of J. I. Packer's book Knowing God, and its chapter entitled "The Only True God," wherein Packer explores the issue of "subtle forms of idolatry." I read this classic Christian work years ago, but the issues Packer raises regarding images of Jesus struck me deeply then and have stuck with me over the years. I knew there was nothing subtle about this offense. I had placed so much importance on a carved wooden figure that when it turned up missing, I found myself using an ugly tone with my little ones.

I thought of the real Jesus, who said, "Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these" (Matt. 19:14). I resolved not to say another word about what was missing. I would focus upon what I knew to be with me, in truth.

In the weeks that followed, the children rarely played with the Nativity. Its figures stood silent, the manger empty. Amidst a daze of shopping, wrapping, baking, and other holiday busyness, I felt sick over the missing Baby Jesus. I wasn't worried about the tiny representation of the Christ child. I felt confident that it would return. My sick feeling stemmed from a desire to keep Jesus at the center of our Christmas preparations, and I felt I'd failed miserably.

God's Word says to be careful about being "enticed" to worship other gods. "Fix these words of mine in your hearts and minds … Teach them to your children, talking about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up" (Deut. 11:18-19). What had I been teaching my children? There was a lesson to be learned from the missing Baby Jesus, and I knew it wasn't just for the children.

Lost and Found
One day, Kody announced, "Mom! I found Baby Jesus! He was right here the whole time!"

I shouldn't have been surprised by the location. I already knew he wasn't among the sparkling decorations of the dining room. Rather, Baby Jesus was in a most humble spot, and in a very casual room: right alongside the dust-bunnies under the couch in the living room! I had to laugh. God was reminding me of the Jesus I knew in my heart: a Baby with humble beginnings befitting of the ministry of His manhood. Born in a cold, dark stable, destined to befriend the lowly and the unloved: fishermen, Samaritans, lepers, the blind, the lame, adulterers, tax collectors … even me.

I placed the tiny carved baby in its manger. Perhaps the manger hadn't been empty after all, just silently expectant … anticipating the Baby, the best Gift ever!

I was reminded in that moment that Christmas is also about the Man of Jesus. If we focus so much upon the image of the Babe, we might miss out on knowing the seasons of that real baby's life … His childhood, His teachings as a Man, His reign in heaven.

Never again will I warn my children about the dangers of "taking Jesus into the basement" or anywhere else! I just pray that they-and every person-will seek Him wherever they find themselves (even when they know they've disobeyed!) and that they will always know "how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ" (Eph. 3:18).

Like the wise men, may we all seek Jesus in spirit and in truth.

Now, has anyone seen the third wise man's camel?

Donna J. Noble is a freelance writer and speaker living in Hartville, Ohio.

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