Every night I unplug my Precious Moments-style nativity scene, and every morning I re-inflate it. As it rises up again, often Mary’s headscarf — which is meant to drape over her shoulders and hang down to her waist — gets out of position, sometimes covering her face. I surprise myself by the tenderness with which I set it in its right place, smoothing it down, revealing once more her smiling praying face. But it’s the least I can do for her, considering what she has done for me.