Decapitated Jesus

Here is one of my favorite Christmas stories.
I was in Switzerland and Helena and I had gone to Lausanne to take in a performance of Verdi’s Nabucco. We were having dinner at a restaurant down the street from the theatre and during dinner Helena’s phone rang. It was her 9-year-old son Jeremy. He was distraught. Jeremy had some very bad news to tell his mother, but he had to be honest and he had to tell her.
“What is it, Jeremy,” Helena asked, her voice rising with concern.
I could not hear Jeremy’s side of the conversation, but what he told her was that he had been playing with his basketball in the house and the ball went into the crèche.
“Oh, no, Jeremy, what happened to the crèche?” Helena asked her son.
The ball knocked Jesus’s head off.
Oh, God, I thought, Jeremy decapitated Jesus.
I only heard Helena’s side of the conversation, in which she admonished Jeremy that he wasn’t supposed to be playing with the ball in the house and then she tried to tell Jeremy that maybe it could be fixed.
Then she said, “Jeremy it’s not good to have a Jesus without a head.”
Helena was being serious and sincere, but the comment and the way it sounded blew me away. I covered my mouth and laughed out of control and repeated soto voce, “Jeremy, it’s not good to have a Jesus without a head.”
Poor Helena was looking at me lose control and she was trying desperately to maintain her composure and was stifling a laugh. I heard her say, “No, Jeremy, I’m not crying. It’s ok. No, I’m not laughing.”
I tried. I really did.