It's Christmas Again

It's the same...but different...

Best Christmas Pageant Ev-ah

We go to a small country church—really small. So small in fact that, when our daughter-in-law inherited the responsibility of directing the children’s Christmas pageant, we found out we were short a few children. One of the children simply said he preferred to be Captain Marvel instead of a shepherd.

So that left her with one fallback plan: call the cousins. Now, in some cases, this might be the equivalent to calling the Herdmans (as in the book by Barbara Robinson, The Worst/Best Christmas Pageant Ever). NOT, you understand, because our grandchildren actually ACT like the Herdmans in the story, but mixed together with each other, compounded with the excitement and anticipation of Christmas…well, maybe there are some similarities.

Anyway, being the devoted sister-in-law that she is, Helen and Clint drove from Macon, bringing their five children to participate in the pageant. Everything went amazingly well at the one and only rehearsal an hour before the Christmas Eve service. Even the littlest angel knew her line and said it loud and clear: “Do not be afraid!”

We had the perfect stable cow.

Everything was in order for the event.

Those little people appeared to have mastered every contingency; until the audience showed up. In the performance, just before her one line was about to be delivered, one of the angels panicked, threw her hands up in exasperation saying, “I don’t know my line!!” She was in the process of storming off the set in embarrassment and irritation with herself when Aunt Helen (a.k.a. Assistant Director) crawled on her hands and knees behind the manger and calmed her down.

From that point on, the production flowed smoothly UNTIL… the stable cow got a bit too close to the manger. The littlest shepherd, seizing his opportunity to use his shepherd’s crook for the purpose for which it was intended, deftly grabbed Benjamin the Stable Cow around the neck to save Baby Jesus from being poked in the eye.

I wish I could say I felt a warm, tender, emotion as I observed the innocence of childhood. But I can’t. I must admit I got so cracked up over the look on Charlie’s face when he discovered the perfect use for that long pole with the crook on the end of it, I thought I’d have to excuse myself! Charlie was so proud of himself.

I guess all this is to say, it was a wonderful night to remember. Familiar carols sung, the sweet chorus of children’s voices heard singing over the adults; cousins coming together to share the greatest story mankind will ever hear; a two-legged cow with a pacifier…what more can a grandmother ask for?

It was a beautiful night of a beautiful season. I wish the whole world could have been there.

*****

If this post seems familiar to anyone reading it, I’m flattered to think you’d remember it. It was actually written seven years ago, but because this Season begs us to reminisce, remember, and reflect, I wanted to re-post it. Since it was first written, my life has changed radically. My husband is in a wheelchair and he has dementia; our grandchildren are maturing and becoming the young people God intended them to be; my hair has turned gray; my body doesn’t respond the way it did a few years ago.

But some things are still the same. The “cousins” still step in. They take their grandfather’s decline in stride, not even seeming disturbed over his irrational outbursts at times. They still want some version of “Camp Lollipop,” when they all come together and learn how to be friends (in spite of being family).

When Burt’s fall occurred, everything in my world shifted. Christmas was a nightmare. The family members wanted to be as supportive and considerate as possible and they repeatedly asked me what I wanted and what I needed. The problem was, I had no idea. Everything was a new challenge. I didn’t know how to tell them that what I wanted was for them to love each other, to look around and spot the vacancies and fill them. I wanted them to tell me what I should do and realize I wanted things to stay the same as they always had been, yet adjust to everything being different. It was a massive conundrum.

I’ve learned a lot about family relationships and coping with physical challenges in the past five years. For starters, I’ve learned to state what I really want. What I always yearn for is for everyone to cooperate and function as a unit. I suppose being a retired drama teacher makes me believe a good way to connect the family is to read a play together. We’ve done that twice, and it worked! (At least I felt that it did.) Our first play was “The Best Christmas Pageant Ever.” Last year, we read the stage version of “A Christmas Carol.”

This past Thanksgiving, I decided to play to the kids’ strong suit. We reserved the local community gym and played a family basketball game, complete with a 12-year-old cheerleader and her 2-year-old cousin, as well as 4-year-old and 1-year-old referees who assisted their uncle. Truth be told, I thing we were all worried that their competitive natures might turn pugilistic and some of the dads might not be able to walk the next day, but it turned out to be a success. My cup was filled by seeing them cooperate with my idea and playing together as friends.

Life and circumstances have changed all of us.

I’m learning to say what I want—what I really, really want—and surprisingly, my family seems relieved. I’ve found that being honest is the quickest, cleanest way to making decisions. At the same time, I’m open to other’s opinions. Sometimes my desires are based on emotional impulses and I’ve found our children’s logic is trustworthy. I need that balance as I make the transition from leaning on a strong spouse to leaning on a strong family.

We probably won’t pull out shepherd, animal, and angel costumes this year, but I pray we pull out the intangibles: the gifts of the Savior— like gentleness, consideration, sensitivity, and cooperation. There’ll probably be some mild misunderstandings and disappointments, perhaps some unmet expectations when we come together, but we’ll stay committed to the promises we made when this family started. Together, we’ll celebrate our Savior’s birth.

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