It wasn’t until I got poked by a handful of straw that I realized how uncomfortable it must have been for Baby Jesus to lay in His manger.

And it wasn’t until I tried to erect a nativity scene on our lawn in the teeth of a northeast wind that I thought about how cold He must have been, even in the desert.

It doesn’t take an intellectual epiphany to meditate on the Nativity, just a willingness to stop and recollect what it means to be human. From such tangible starting points, it’s amazing where God will take you.

Many Christmases ago, I returned to the sacrament of confession after decades away. Following absolution the parish priest said, “Now, go to the manger. There you will find everything.”

Everything? I’d looked at manger scenes before. I’d thought about how beautiful they were. I admired the Holy Family and I believed that without what had occurred in a Bethlehem manger, there would be no Christmas. So what was I missing?

Everything. There, on a kneeler before the manger in our church, I met an Infant and His Mother whom I’d looked upon countless times and had never seen with clarity. An Infant and His Mother in human form whose sole existence is Divine Love, for one another and for all mankind. The heat of this Love pierced the cold shell of my self, and sought out the soul that waited within, the soul that remembered the sound of Love’s voice from when it was first called into creation.

I met with Forgiveness and He gave me eyes to see, without mercy, the horror of my sins, and then — precisely because of mercy — dissolved them, as sunrise dissolves the night. I understood Gratitude for all I have been given, unmerited. I met with Truth that revealed my being as it is intended to be: remade, restored, redeemed.

The more I go to the manger, the more I gain from these encounters with Love. In the manger, among the rough wood and stiff straw, there is Dignity unrecognized by the world. In the raised lantern of St. Joseph, there is Faith that overcomes uncertainty and fear. In the faces of the shepherds there is Joy born from long-anticipated salvation and freedom from the death of sin. In the glory of the angels there is Praise that teaches me the startling beauty and reality of heaven. Between the Mother and the Infant there is the preciousness of Life that no words can describe.

All of these invaluable gifts have their origin in Love. In the manger Love lays His head on His Mother’s lap and gazes out to welcome us, lowering Himself to reach us from His Seat of Divinity. In the manger there is peace and humility that tenderize our toughened hearts and make us ready to listen and imitate.

In the manger are the remedies for every weakness that keeps us from God, all of those things that show the many ways we lack His love. Family strife, marital quarrels, addictions, infidelities, coldness of heart, materialism, anger, covetousness, vindictiveness, pride, hatred, all of these and more find healing in the Love waiting in the manger. We don’t understand this kind of love and we can’t access it without the Infant Jesus Who invites us to learn about love at His simple crib. There we realize we can’t love one another until we’ve accepted His great love for us.

The people in my life need love more than any other gift this Christmas, and so do I. Every day we need fresh supplies of it, in order to communicate with one another without sarcasm, to serve one another without resentment, to forgive one another without bitterness, and to understand one another with charity. We need to learn from the Love in the manger so we can live this love ourselves and pass it on to others, encouraging them to meet Love in a multitude of ways throughout their lives.

I know a woman who keeps a small manger scene in her living room all year long in order to have the Christ Child near. It’s a constant reminder to her of the gifts of the manger. Being human, how we need constant reminding of God’s love! I once heard a priest describe the human heart as a bucket with a hole in it — all the lessons we learn tend to seep out rather quickly and the bucket needs to be constantly refilled. When it comes to my own family, I often feel my heart is more like a colander than a bucket, unable to hold love at all as it streams out through hundreds of little holes faster than God can fill it.

When I go to the manger, the opportunity is there to plug the leaks and hold onto Love for a bit longer. I am reminded how much I don’t understand Love and how I need to lean on Christ and His Blessed Mother in order to experience it. It’s the challenge of a lifetime, and every day requires us to face it anew. As the Magi journeyed long, so do we throughout our lives, seeking the Love that transforms humanity. It’s the difference between living, and living our lives abundantly.

No matter how many Christmases pass, how many mangers I kneel before, this Incarnated Love continues to offer me everything. It remains my free choice how much I agree to receive.

Go to the manger this Christmas and meet the Love that awaits you there.