Triceratops Heads and Haiku Dinner

Kachi and I were looking through old photos the other day, and he saw a picture of little Vava with Zebra in one hand, and Topsy (a rubbery triceratops) in the other. 

"Who is that?" he asked, pointing at the dinosaur.

"Topsy," I replied, surprised he didn't remember. 

"No - Topsy's just a triceratops head," he said, giving me some serious side eye.

 And I realized - by the time Kachi was old enough to remember, Topsy had been worn through from Vava's constant loving. She had split in half and, emptied of her little white pellets, became two halves of the dinosaur she was. For a year or two, Vava slept with both halves sandwiched between her long skinny feet - still feeling love and comfort from her beloved Topsy - and then somewhere along the way, we lost the bottom half. So Kachi only remembered Vava being absolutely smitten with an empty rubber dinosaur head - and apparently never stopped to ask why, just accepted it as normal, as one of the Things that Always Were.

(I read a post today where people shared weird traditions from their families that they'd accepted as normal when they were kids, but realized later were pretty strange.

One person came from a family that had haiku dinner several times a month.

Haiku dinner, where
Anything they said had to
Beat like a haiku.

And all I could think with my little nerd heart was how amazing that would be.)

I love hearing my kids talk about when they were little. It wasn't that long ago to me - but to them, it's foundational history. I love how they each remember different things, snippets and segments of moments and memories that stand out to them more clearly in the blur. They retell them and connect to each other in the retelling.

I wonder if God feels the same way when we talk about Jesus' birth. Like there's a lot we love and remember and it's such a part of who we are. We've got the gospels and tradition holding the memories, but for Him, it wasn't that long ago and there's a lot only He knows. He probably laughs with glee as we retell and remember in snippets and slices the strangeness, the manger and the overflowing inn, the haiku dinner or triceratops head.

I love pulling out Christianity's photo album and looking through it every year.  That star. That mama. That crowded inn. A weird way to send the son of God into the world. A strange and fragmented old story; a good old story. It centers my heart on Jesus, and connects me to you and to God in the retelling. Even if I have it muddled, like Kachi and the triceratops head. Even if I look back in twenty years and think that my blog posts are a bit of a haiku dinner - normal now, but just so weird.

It makes my little nerd heart happy. Thanks for reading along with me, guys.

Merry Christmas. xo.