I’m remembering fondly today the country church Christmas programs we had (hate to say it, but) 50 years ago.
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Shy youngins barely able to whisper lines they drove Dad ‘n Mom crazy with just last week at home.
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Eager grade school kids on stage mixed with “you go ahead” chums.
Pretty easy to tell, isn’t it, who’s choosing to do this over getting in trouble for not?.
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Carols we know so well we could sing it for them, almost-humming along, encouraging with attentive eyes.
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Bathrobes. Towels. Make-shift ropes to hold things in place.
Well, at least the shepherd’s rod is real. Tell me, what is Myrrh again?
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Reluctant 7th & 8th graders avoiding eye contact with high-schoolers who are glad they don’t have to do this anymore.
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The best part of the night wasn’t finally finishing.
No, the best part of the night was when the men of the church came in with boxes of treat-filled paper bags for all the children:
Salted peanuts, mixed nuts, a candy cane or two, a popcorn ball made with loving hands, an orange, ribbon Christmas candy and —oh-there’s-one!— chocolate creme candies. SO good! Mine never even made it across the parking lot to the parsonage.
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Merry Christmas, friends. Take a little time to think back again this year and remember.
Listen to a few old tales of the unexpected,
of weathering Christmas blizzards,
of boys home from the service.
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Peace on earth, good will toward men.
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