A Shepherd's First

Today is a big day for my boy -- he is in his first Christmas program in our church. It's a big day for me too -- I wrote the script. I've never done anything like that before, but I enjoyed myself immensely in the creation of this program. This isn't an old-fashioned "Christmas Pageant," with a girl not even in the training bra stage trying to figure out how to play Mary and be a mother to her plastic doll who wets when fed a bottle; with a boy trying to play a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders when all this boy really knows is the yearning to get home to plop himself down in front of his playstation; with sweet little girls dressed in white sheets and tinsel circles around their little heads, having no clue what it's like to announce the birth of the Savior of the world as they instead announce, "Hi, Mommy! I love you!" No, I didn't dare jump into that ring of creative writing.

The littler kids of our church -- the Pre-K to first grade boys and girls, my own included -- have no individual speaking parts, although they do make up the majority of the chorus, belting out tunes such as "Away in a Manger," "Happy Birthday, Jesus," and "Go, Tell It On the Mountain" (Aidan's favorite, hearkening to the extrovert within, for no introvert would ever be screaming anything from a mountain, really). The little kids needed something to do, something to set themselves apart, so this is the closest thing we're doing that resembles a traditional pageant: they're dressing up like white-robed-and-tinseled angels and humble, drab, cloth-covered shepherds. Aidan is thrilled to be a shepherd, his first experience in the acting world.

Yesterday morning was rehearsal, my first experience as a mom who totes her children to activities such as this. I carefully planned as many errands I could run in that neighborhood as I could, for my time is precious and I like to be efficient. I brought my dog along, for our groomer is right across the street from the church and Jack needed his nails clipped and ears cleaned. I settled Aidan into his spot in the sanctuary; I walked Jack across the street for his brief episode of torture. I walked back to church and brought Jack in with me, since he is terrified of staying in the car by himself and it was bitterly cold outside. I had extra newsletters to fold, address, and stamp so I wrapped Jack's leash around my chair and set to work, listening in on the kids rehearsing. In an hour we left, stopped at the post office to deliver the newsletters as well as a Christmas package to my nieces in the Midwest, and stopped by our favorite pizza place on the way home, picking up a delicious hot pie for lunch, a reward for the pinching of pennies over the past couple of weeks for this very purpose. A good morning indeed.

This morning we awoke to bad weather. While we slept, the earth was covered in a few inches of snow and frozen sleet. The sky is dark and bleak, the conditions icy and frigid. My parents' church has been canceled; we assume ours has not since the phone has not started ringing. We are proceeding as usual on a Sunday morning, with a few exceptions. Due to the late night last night, as we drove around the neighborhood with my parents once again looking at Christmas lights, the kids missed their bath. We bathed them this morning and they are dressed in warm sweaters, hair still wet and waiting for the dryer. My parents are coming to church with us this morning, not wanting to miss this big "first" for their grandson. I am glad Aidan does not take after me; at his age I would have started developing an ulcer and burst into a torrent of tears, standing in front of all of those eyes. He has no qualms.

Preparations. Anticipation. Excitement. And a little bit of frenzy thrown in for good measure.
I love this time of year.