Laura Merritt Bird '96 | December 27, 2015
Some people claim the Notre Dame campus is magical. They say it radiates an inimitable spirit that at times can cross into the realm of the mysterious. As a freshman, I learned firsthand that this belief lurks not far from the truth.
My Christmas surprise — or the “Christmas miracle,” as my roommates and I came to call it — occurred on a Thursday evening in December 1992. Orchestra rehearsal had ended, and I was leaving the band building to begin my long trek across campus to Lyons Hall. With fingers numb and mind ruminating on approaching finals, I trudged through the inevitably bitter wind, encountering no fellow travelers along the way. Campus seemed almost desolate.
That is, until I reached God Quad. As I walked past the statue of Jesus, loving as I always did the feeling of being embraced by his outstretched arms, I stumbled. Literally. I had tripped over a dark shadowy mass that, upon further inspection, turned out to be a Christmas tree.