Be Careful Of The Camel

Ask anyone about their Christmas traditions and you will hear a lot of different stories.
Ask anyone about the Christmas decorations they remember as a child and be surprised.
Each person has their own Christmas story.
Each person has their own Christmas memories.

I remember two snowmen that used to get hung up each year.
Their heads looked as if someone sliced a Styrofoam ball in half.
In this way, the snowmen were able to lay flat against the wall.
They each wore a black hat and had a perpetual smile.

As a little girl, I loved them.
It was not Christmas until those snowmen were hung on the wall.
There were also two Christmas trees that hung in another place.
Covered in green felt, they had tiny little felt ornaments on them.

The felt covered Christmas trees and the snowmen hung in the same place each year.
It was so good to take down the things that were hung there before.
It was so good to put something Christmas-y in their place.
It was the angel chimes that fascinated me the most.

Four little white candles were placed in holders on a circular base.
Two gold bells were above them.
In the tier above that, there were trumpet blowing angels that looked as if they were flying.
Under the angels was a thin piece of metal that hung down.

On top of the angels, there was a turbine with another trumpet blowing angel.
My mother would light the candles.
As the candles burned, the heat from the candles turned the turbine at the top.
The angels seemed to fly in a circle, striking the bells beneath them.

I could sit and watch those angels flying for quite a while.
The gentle sound of the bells was soothing to me.
I was not supposed to get too close to the open flame.
The angel chimes were only lit with supervision.

It’s funny what we remember about our childhood Christmases.
Our Christmas tree had fragile balls; I remember breaking quite a few.
There were individual stands of tinsel that hung down from each branch.
I remember a train set under the tree when I was quite little.

They were simple decorations but they were ours.
There was comfort in the familiar.
There was constancy in the simplicity.
There were electric candles and small wreaths with red ribbons in the windows.

It was not Christmas until the manger was set up.
Each figure was special to me.
When I was little, all I wanted to do was play house with the manger.
The pieces were fragile and I was not supposed to play with them.

I didn’t listen.
I attempted to play with the manger very quietly so as not to get caught.
I did get caught because I dropped the camel.
The Wise Men were traveling to see Baby Jesus so of course, the camel had to move, too.

The camel’s leg cracked.
I could see a metal wire running through the leg.
The metal wire kept the leg intact.
There was no way of hiding what I had done.

My mother glued the camel as best she could.
I was told to be careful with the camel.
That manger is in our home and is a part of our Christmas traditions.
It is not Christmas until the manger is set up.

Unlike my mother, we keep Baby Jesus in His hay bed all the time.
The children helped me set up the manger through the years.
It soon became the job of my youngest son.
Be careful with the camel, was my one admonition.

The camel has fallen.
The crack is more visible.
The metal wire can still be seen from certain angles.
But it is our manger and it is very special.

Who would want a pristine manger anyway?
Who would want Baby Jesus placed in luxurious conditions?
That would changed the story somehow.
The One who is great became small for our sake.

We like to change stories because that is who we are.
God does not change the Story because that is who He is.
From eternity past, the Story was determined.
Jesus would come down and step into time.

Jesus, who always was and always will be, became tethered to time.
Jesus grew and His body changed.
Jesus experienced all that we experience yet was without sin.
Jesus stepped into a fragile body that was tired, and hungry, and thirsty, and cold.

The first Christmas Story was written long before it was ever put in place.
We can try to commercialize it.
We can try to secularize it.
We can try to change it to the unrecognizable.

But it is still God’s Story.
It is the unpacking of that first Christmas tradition that is the foundation for ours.
Without Jesus in the dirty manger, it is not Christmas.
I’m glad our camel is broken because so am I.

The camel’s leg is cracked; the metal wire is still visible.
I like that.
That metal wire holds him up even though he looks a bit tattered and worn.
We are like that camel.

We are broken and bruised; we are cracked and have been mended.
But underneath, if we really look, there is Something sturdy holding us up.
There is Something that runs through us that gives us stability.
There is Something, without which, we could not stand.

My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness. Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weakness, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (2 Corinthians 12:9,10)

Be careful of the camel, indeed.
The camel represents all of us.
We go through life, limping instead of walking most days.
Yet, we can still stand.

Something sturdy is holding us up.
Something runs through us giving us stability.
Because of Jesus, born in the dirty manger, we can stand.
All because of Jesus.

2 responses to “Be Careful Of The Camel”

1. Gina,

   What a beautiful (and true) story.

   I also love the photo.

   Reply

   • Thank you, Jeff!
     I can always look at the camel to remind me that I am just as fragile and need the Lord to hold me up.
     Gina

     Reply