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Dear Stephen, When I was growing up, Christmas Eve always had a singular sense of the sacred. My grandparents, who were Italian immigrants, spent the evening cooking and setting up their large nativity scene. A sense of holy anticipation seemed to fill every space in our home, as did the intoxicating scent of my grandmother’s sauce. That memory has been so sustaining for me as we moved through the last days of Advent. With so much fear, uncertainty and isolation swirling around us, this has been...
