The Story of the Christmas Program at Church

On Sunday morning the kids choir had a small program during both of the worship services.  On Sunday morning I came down with a case of the flu, but because I had a shepherd and an angel and no other way to transport them to church other than taking them myself, I packed a few extra sets of underwear and Dr. Peds gave me some anti vomiting medicine before I actually started to vomit, and away we went.

Well, actually, it wasn’t quite that easy, because Sunday mornings are never easy, you know.  In fact, the kids choir director told both of my t0-be-costumed kids that they needed to wear something that wouldn’t show under their costumes.  For the angel, that meant a light colored dress.  We had only one option, a summer dress, but we decided it would work.  For the shepherd, that meant a pair of shorts and a short sleeved shirt.  He tried very hard to get me to let him wear a hole-filled t-shirt a size too small and running shorts.  Much to his loud dismay I rummaged around in his drawers until I found a pair of brown cotton shorts and a short sleeved casual shirt.  What the choir director did not consider, I am quite sure, was footwear.  By the time Mr. SP finally came downstairs we were already running quite late and he was wearing his father’s white athletic knee socks pulled up as far as they could go almost to the edge of his shorts, with the grey heels riding far, far above his scuzzy tennis shoes.  I didn’t really have time to fight it out, so we just went with it.  And ironically, of course, footwear IS what sticks out of the bottom of a shepherd’s costume.

That is the point in the morning where the angel lost one of her shoes and couldn’t find it anywhere.  So she threw a minor fit and stomped about until she figured that I was actually going to drive the car away and leave her, and then she put on her tennis shoes and socks (with the summer dress).  I took a deep breath and suggested maybe the white summer sandals would be better, since we were dressed for summer anyway.  The white summer sandals were located.  Crisis diverted.

The car was packed.  The kidlets were buckled.  I made one more quick trip to use the bathroom, and we were a mere 10 minutes late.

At church I quickly readied a craft for my Sunday school kids, and so The Banana and I got to the sanctuary just as the first service was starting, and managed to find a small seat over in the corner, where we viewed everything from a very unique perspective off to the side of the action.  There were several baptisms, so the sanctuary was quite crowded.

During the program the children sang beautifully.  They looked calm, and engaged.  Because a mother always gravitates to her own children, I watched how sweetly they stood there, the shepherd only occasionally lifting up his costume to scratch the dry skin on his legs.  (Giving everyone a GREAT view of those socks!).  I wondered how they could look so calm and kind when they so often weren’t.  And then it was time for the nativity scene to be acted out.  My shepherd and angel entered from the organ side of the sanctuary, where I was sitting.  Few people could see the little scuffle behind the organ when it was time for the shepherd to attach the angels glittery, floating wings, but I did.  I definitely noticed how the angel turned around and glared at that shepherd and gave him what for right in the middle of that nice song all the other children were singing.  For a moment I actually thought she was going to bop him big time right there in the front of the whole congregation, but she gathered herself together and turned back around, making a sweeping entrance to the front just at the right time, her wings fluttering beautifully up and down during the slow, sweet piece of music.  The shepherd followed and looked kind and reverent as he gazed at the baby Jesus.  One of my friends said the scene was so moving that she started to cry.  Perspective can certainly be deceptive in so many ways, can’t it?

Then they excited and the shepherd bonked another girl on the head accidentally and did not apologize nicely.  I found all this out later.  I made several emergency trips to the restroom during the rest of the service, tried to keep all the big kids on task during the sermon, and was feeling good enough to teach Sunday School, which is always fun and exciting.  (The mishaps of other people’s children are so much more entertaining than those of your own children).  After the service I gathered my brood up, did all that wonderful winter bundling. We tried to avoid mowing down any old ladies, and I steered them clear of the drinking fountain.  Oh that drinking fountain.  Drinking fountains are always around  just exactly where you don’t want them to be.

All was back to normal, and by the time I left the church with all four kidlets back in the car, I was overly frazzled as usual.  I went home and fed them lunch and told them I was taking a nap and they were not to come into my room unless they were dying or the house was on fire.  And wouldn’t you know it, JUST when I finally got to sleep several of them came right in and woke up the toddler and that was the end of that nap.