Last year, as Christmas approached, my family celebrated both a joy and a sorrow. The high point: the Dec. 1 birth of a baby girl, Natalie. The low: the sudden death of my mother-in-law in mid-October.

She was the glue that kept the family together and without her we were not quite sure how to celebrate. For 38 years she had given a party just before Christmas that everyone attended. It was out of the question to decline the invitation even there was grumbling at times, especially as the children got older. Last year there was no party and that weighed heavily on everyone throughout the entire Christmas season.

This year I began the process of decorating the house and garden for Christmas by taking everything out of the boxes and cupboards and surveying it to see what I might do differently, better, than in previous years. As Mary, Joseph, baby Jesus, shepherds and angels went up in every available corner of the house, a sense of peace settled in. In what was a moment of grace I looked at the different styles and sizes of nativities and realized that their placement throughout the house was a form of prayer, a way of reminding anyone who entered during this season that God was with us.

The need to do it "better" than previous years disappeared and the entire decorating experience changed from drudgery to enjoyment. My feelings were confirmed a few days later when my niece commented that the nativities made a statement and that nothing should be added.

One more incident caused me to stop and think. I had searched everywhere in the house for a special ornament and was frustrated it could not be found. Finally it appeared at the very bottom of the last box of ornaments. It was as beautiful as I remembered: a large, clear glass ornament, etched in gold with a lovely gold cord. It belonged right in the front of the tree.

But within two minutes it slipped off the tree onto the tile floor and shattered into a million pieces. I stood there with my hand over my mouth, not quite sure how to react but wanting to get mad at someone or something. My cherished ornament, finally found and now gone --- poof, just like that. Surprising myself, I got the broom swept the broken glass into a pile and tossed it away. And the world did not end.

This Christmas, I will do my best to live in the moment, cherish what is really important --- not the trappings of decorations, food and gifts, but family. I will try to spend what few days are left until Christmas entering into the spirit of what it meant for Jesus to be born into a world that really did not expect the message he brought. The nativities that adorn the house will be sources of prayer and contemplation.

We will still watch for Santa, wrap gifts late into the night on Christmas Eve and undoubtedly run around at the last minute getting "things" together. But this year hopefully it will be done with a renewed awareness of what is important in our lives.

Anne Hansen is a member of the Camarillo Catholic community. Her e-mail address is familymail@aol.com.