In 1990, as Christmas drew closer, instead of the excitement I had always felt at this time of year, I became more and more melancholy. I loved Christmas, the tradition, the tree, the shopping and wrapping, even the cooking of the Christmas Eve meal for 35 people.

I especially loved our nativity scene, our setting it up as a family, and then hiding baby Jesus until midnight on Christmas Eve. I loved our nativity even more than decorating our Christmas tree, laden with ornaments given to each of our four children, one for every year since their births. I love the pageantry and celebration of Christmas Mass, my husband and I sitting side by side with our two daughters, and our two sons. I loved our being together as a family.