Christmas pageants. Memories.
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The Pink Room: Thoughts About Intentional Living
Chapter 2/Is this Reality?
Part 2 (Previous post contain the previous chapter.)
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When I was young, St. Patrick’s hosted a Christmas Pageant
every year. It wasn’t as ruckus as the one in that book, The Best Christmas
Ever, but the emotional state of the kids was probably close. It looked pretty
good from the outside though.
A swarm of confused over-tired angles, and holy men and a
holy family, all less than four feet tall and half-blinded by weird hats and
garland halos would waddle into the dark hallway at the back of the church. We
were constantly hushed by the adults who were in charge, until it was time to
walk down the center aisle.
Every year, for a while, Beth was asked to be Gabriel the
archangel. I was some kind of shorter follower angel with a bunch of other kids—just
the ones who had families that regularly attended and they needed to find a
spot for on the stage. Just a shorter Gabriel, is what I was, but I knew I was not
Gabriel because we, the host of angles, had silver garland halos. Except
Gabriel, Gabriel’s garland was gold. Only Gabriel had a gold halo. I think
maybe our task was to make the background sparkly.
The angles wore pillowcases. The pillowcases had a hole cut
out for the head and arms, and silver garland safety-pinned around all the
openings, head, arms, neck and bottom in sparkly itchy garland for Christmas
tree decorating. Wearing garland is particularly warm and itches and left a
distinct memory of feeling hot and trying not to move, being aware of all the
places I was dying to itch.
Our halos were bent clothes hangers with a loop around our
heads and a section at the back sticking straight up that was holding a halo (another
loop), hovering above our heads. Garland covered each loop. The wires were
never really round and most years there was at least one painful bend that dug
into your head, not comfortable. It never failed--some kid would have random
hanging garland dangling down in an awkward way and another crooked halo. I
probably had a crooked halo. I may still. For some reason they always asked a
girl to be Gabriel, it never occurred to me then, we should have called her
Gabriella.
At some point one of the coordinators would finally look
into the hall, mysterious hand signals and nodding and we were off, we’d be
ushered in and would take our positions in front. Some readers at each podium,
the angles would file in on the far left and Gabriel on the far right, the Holy
Family (with a Jesus doll that could never stay dressed), the Wisemen and some
choir kids here and there. After the Christmas story was read and Gabriel
lifted her arms at her cue and the wise men held out their arms at their cue
we’d be dismissed and sit in the front two rows for the rest of the mass.
It was strange to be there, in church, without family
around. I had to sit with the other follower angels. My last year as an angel,
the little girl angel who sat to my left, nearly had a meltdown after the
pageant. She wanted to sit by her parents really badly and she had big tears in
her eyes, I was in panic mode. I said everything I could possibly think of
saying to calm her down.
“Service is almost done.”
“I want my mommy!”
“A couple more songs and then it will be done.”
“Where’s my mommy?!”
“She’s back my mommy, after communion it’ll be done.”
And then it was done. I learned something new. After
communion, mass is just about done. From seven years old on, I waited for
communion.
After that year, Beth didn’t want to do the pageant anymore
and no one made her. But Paul was asked to be a Wiseman for the first time. I
was volunteered for it again as well—as a cow. Believe it or not the pageant
coordinators couldn’t find a kid who was willing to wear the new cow and donkey
costumes, crazy--who could have guessed?! I’m not clear on who thought a
3rd grade girl wouldn’t mind being a cow but somehow, someone (Dad)
decided I wouldn’t mind, and for one more year, I was in the pageant. You know
you are raising a people pleaser when a pre-teen girl agrees to be a cow. That
year was special though, no lining up in back. I got to crawl out on my hands
and knees from the room behind the altar, and I remember the crowd laughing. It
is okay, you can laugh. I’m pretty much over it.
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Life is filled with unpredictable people and situations.
Sometimes I think God is testing us, sometimes I think God is seeing if we’ll
take a risk. No matter what, we learn something about ourselves. I learned that
I don’t like wearing garland and pillowcases even though I was cute. And I
learned the cow suit isn’t that bad but would have made better pajamas than a
character in the Christmas pageant.
It is not easy to apply that thinking to daily life. I wish
hind-sight were more available up front. But, then again, hind-sight on a cow
isn’t too great. Maybe it is best we don't always know what we are getting
into. It is comforting to remember when things do not make sense we have a
Creator that is in control.
