My family has gone through and read the varying scriptural accounts of the Christmas story this past week, in Matthew, Luke, and tonight, in 3 Nephi in the Book of Mormon. And it's so strange to me how much of a different connection I have to each telling. I've always had a horrible connection with the New Testament. I try reading it, and there's no click, no spark, no wonder at Jesus and his miracles. I have a stronger connection to the Old Testament and the people and stories from so much much longer ago. But there's not a Christmas story there to read, so I'm back here, picking through the New Testament, hoping that I'll feel something. There's a little bit of wonder and fear and apprehension as I try to put myself in the shoes of Mary, and how she kept and pondered all these different things in her heart. There's that curiosity you get when you look back on a series of events and think about how they all worked together, how everything came out for the best, when I put together the pieces of the wise men bringing gifts, which were both symbolic and practical, which surely helped pay for them to flee into Egypt and then to return to Nazareth.

But ultimately, these observations are forced. I'm trying to find the spirituality where it's not clicking, and it's so utterly dry to me. I'm sure they're super spiritual for someone else, and I'm glad I read the New Testament just for the sake of knowing what it says and the history and context, but it's really not a place I go and feel the spirit when I read.

And then I read the Book of Mormon. And that's where it clicks. That's where the Spirit hits for me. I read 3 Nephi 1, and it's where the star appears and there's the day and a night and a day without darkness. And there's this fear from the people that they're going to be killed because the signs that prove that what they believe in is true haven't happened yet. And then this promise is fulfilled, the star appears, the signs are given. These people on the other side of the world who might not ever meet their Savior, their God gives them signs that somewhere out there, their Messiah is born. God didn't have to even let them know that their Messiah would be born or tell them the signs to look for or give signs at all, but they were told the signs and the time period to look for them by a man on a wall, and they were afraid that the signs wouldn't come when they were told they would. And yet they did, not only giving them hope, but literally saving their lives in that moment from people who would kill them for believing.

And like, why is this story the one that makes me feel glad and light and hopeful? How many people even think to read the Book of Mormon when it's time to read the Christmas story? But this is the one that gets my heart, and it's the one that adds Christmas spirit to my experience.

And like yes, very good, Jesus was born in a stable, protected from Herod, raised by loving parents though in poor and rough circumstances. There's the angels and the shepherds and the wisemen. All these really cool prophecies are fulfilled. All good. Nice. But I like this *gestures to a group of people on an entirely different continent*

My testimony is so gosh dang weird. Merry Christmas.