The Day St. Joseph Was Decapitated
By: Conny Manero
Tags: Accident, Celebration, Christmas, Nativity, Holidays

There’s been an accident at our house. Something gruesome really … St. Joseph got decapitated.

It happened on December 1st. We thought the time had come to bring out the Christmas tree and decorate the house. Don’t imagine this as easy, because it’s a huge job.

First of all, my son had to get the tree out of the storage cabinet which is a job in itself. The cabinet is stuffed to the gills with … stuff. In addition to boxes with Easter and Halloween decorations, there are things such as a fan, a heater, crutches, old curtains, lamps, blankets, cat carriers, etc. To get to the Christmas tree and decorations, all this had to come out.

Once the Christmas tree was out of its box, the branches needed to be unfolded. Another job that kept us busy for at least half an hour.

Then, while my son decorated the living room, I put the balls in the tree. This under close inspection of our four cats: Charlotte, Holly, Halley, and Greyson, who couldn’t wait to get their paws on the balls.

While decorating the tree, I suddenly heard a crash followed by, “Oh shit.”

“What happened?” I asked.

“St. Joseph got decapitated,” Dieter said.

I rushed over and sure enough, there was St. Joseph, on the floor but his head was nowhere to be found. Oh well, I was sure it would turn up and if it didn’t I could just buy another St. Joseph.

While looking at the Christmas stable, I noticed something very strange though. There was something profoundly wrong with our nativity scene. The stable had a St. Joseph (minus his head), a virgin Mary, three kings, three shepherds, an ox, and a sheep, but … there were two mangers in front of St. Mary and St. Joseph.

“Two mangers?” I turned to Dieter. “Since when did the virgin Mary have twins?

“I was at the store,” Dieter said. “I couldn’t remember whether we had a manger or not, so I bought one. Seems a shame to let the extra manger go to waste.”

I had no comeback for this. So, the extra manger stayed, and apparently, in our house baby Jesus now has a little brother or sister. (No disrespect intended, I assure you.)

With the tree set up and the house decorated, Dieter decided to put lights in the annex of the living room and lights on the balcony. He was about to start with the lights for the annex when I looked at the string, mentally measured the walls of the annex, and … the string seemed too long.

“I don’t think that is the right string,” I said. “I think the string that you’re holding with the blue, green, and purple lights is for the balcony, and the string over there with blue, green, orange and red lights is for the annex.”

“No,” Dieter said. “This is the string for the annex and that string is for the balcony. Look, there’s a tiny bit of white paint on this light, meaning it’s from the balcony.” And off he went.

Putting up the lights was accompanied by a whole lot of sighing, moaning, and occasional swearing when the hammer missed the nail and knocked a finger instead.

When the string of lights indeed proved to be too long, Dieter got creative and worked a design into the display. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. Oh well, it would have to do.

Next Dieter put on a jacket and was now going to string the lights along the balcony. Within minutes he came back inside with the announcement … “The string is too short. You were right, the annex string is for outside and this string is for inside.” Hmm, tell me something I didn’t know. But you know men … they don’t want to hear, “I told you so.”

Then again, I made a mistake of my own. I placed an angel on top of the lamp lighting the nativity scene.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dieter said. “That angel is gonna fall.”

“We’ll see,” I said. “It seems pretty sturdy to me.”

I was wrong. Last night when I went to unplug the annex lights, I suddenly felt a profound thump on my head. After having rubbed the sore spot I looked down and there she was … the angel smiling up at me from the floor. Her face almost said, “Gotcha.”

On Sunday morning, we woke up to the sound of something falling and rolling. Even before I came into the living room I knew what it was and who the culprit was … Holly had knocked a ball off the Christmas tree and was now batting it around in a way that would have made David Beckham jealous.

Charlotte was also playing with something. Batting it, chasing it, and batting it some more. She had such fun that, at first, I let her play, but when I saw what she was playing with, I had to put a stop to it … St. Joseph’s head.

Don’t worry, doctor Dieter and superglue, remedied the situation and all is well with the Holy Family.