In December 2008, we visited our stake's annual Festival of Nativities. While we were there, a picture was taken of my daughter Rosalind, dressed in a lamb costume and playing with a toy nativity set, by a Columbian newspaper photographer. It was published in an article a few days later, along with Rosalind's name and our names.
Mr. Marvin M, an elderly gentleman we'd never met, read the article. He liked the idea and wanted to share his late wife's handmade nativity sets with our festival. He got out his phone book and tried to call every person named in the article. We were the only ones who happened to answer.
Mr. M introduced himself and explained his idea to me. Impressed by his generosity, I wanted to make sure he understood. "You know that this is just once a year, right?" I asked him. "They don't go on permanent display anywhere - it's just this weekend. And would you want them back afterward?"
"No, I want to donate them so they can be displayed at this festival," he said. "And whoever will make sure they're displayed, can keep them."
Finally, in March 2009, we drove to his home in Battle Ground to pick them up. I didn't expect much. I figured we were helping a sweet generous old man who loved his wife and wanted someone to love her things after he was gone. I had absolutely no idea what I was about to walk into - a professional ceramics studio.
Mr. M was very feeble, but kind and funny, and appreciated our coming to his studio.
Then we saw the nativity sets. I was immediately humbled. They were incredible.
He wanted us to take as many sets as we could carry. We ended up with three, including the award-winning pink one, still standing next to its prize - a statuette bearing the words "Best In Show, 1988".
"Are you sure?" we asked him again and again. He assured us he wanted us to take them.
We made sure to invite him to our next nativity festival, in December 2009.
For the rest of the year I looked forward to December. It was fun to think of seeing Mr. M again, to take him on a tour of the nativity festival. I was sure he would love it, and I wanted him to see that we had kept our promise.
The Monday before the festival, I loaded the boxes in the car and drove them to the church. Several members of my ward helped me unpack the pieces from the boxes. It had been seven months since the first time I'd seen the sets - and then for only about ten minutes. We were all amazed with the detailed work on each piece, and the obvious care and talent that had gone into making these sets. It was exciting to have them there at the church, finally.
I tried to call Mr. M to remind him about the festival and invite him to come with us. His phone was disconnected.
I called several people in that area of town with the same last name, asking about him. They never called back.
Monday night, we drove back out to his house, which looked deserted. We knocked several times, but everything was dark and it was apparent no one was there. We left a flier on his door and hoped he'd get it, wherever he was.
Saturday morning, with two days left of the festival, we drove out to see if we could find someone at home... we did. It wasn't good news.
Mr. M passed away on September 13, 2009, just months after we'd met him and he'd given us the Nativity sets.
I mentally kicked myself for not keeping in better touch with him - not that I could have done anything about his passing away, but at least I would have known before now. I tried to console myself by thinking somewhere, maybe he and Nellie knew about our little festival, and maybe they could come see their nativities again together.
A week after the festival, a reporter from the Columbian called me. They liked the story and wanted to feature it and the nativity sets in the paper. A photographer came over and took wonderful pictures of the sets (hideous ones of me).
After the article appeared in the paper, the Ms' daughter Linda Jones called me and introduced herself. She had seen the article and wanted to come over and see the nativity sets and take pictures. Having never met her, I wondered if there would be more to her agenda - her parents had made these nativities, after all. "Whatever she wants, I'll just give her," I thought.
She didn't want to take any of them. "My dad gave them to you, and you should keep them," she said. She just wanted to take pictures, and she wanted to come to the festival in 2010. Linda had obviously inherited her father's generous spirit.
We kept in touch all year, and last night I was privileged to meet Linda, her husband Walt, and Mr. M's sweet friend Faith, and take them around the church building to see the Ms' work.
They were very kind and gracious, and fun to listen to, as they toured the main room. Passing by certain nativities, they recognized and mentioned the names of the companies the ceramic molds had come from. It was quite educational. Overall they enjoyed the experience very much. I was relieved that they were happy.
They said they would tell their friends about it, and we made plans to meet again next year. I hope it happens.
The end... maybe. :)