Holy-ouge Family Christmas
Like most folks I know, and probably a few I don’t, I really enjoy The Office. Jodi and I missed the third season, and so every now and then we pick up another disc from The Blockbuster. Jodi’s pointed out that my life has been mirroring a bit of Season Three Disc Three era Michael Scott. First with my boots that were manufactured by a women’s boot manufacturer, and secondly as the only adult male in the Christmas program at our church. It feels kind of like Michael going to magic camp. Some people think Christmas programs are only for kids, which is probably why there were so many kids in it. Self fulfilling prophecy.
How did I become the sole adult male in the program? I blame Elsa.
Lydia, with the rest of the little girls in Sunday School, was an angel. Elsa, in her attempt to one up her big sister, took the role of the Savior of the Nations, The Messiah, Emmanuel, or as Mary sang towards the end of her third trimester, Long Expected Jesus. So Elsa is Jesus, which makes Jodi Mary, and yours truly either the Holy Spirit or Joseph. Survey says… Joseph. For one morning, and one morning only, we were the Holy family.
The program was great. Simple and to the point €“ a total non-stresser which is in my book a formula for success. In fact it was so simple we didn’t make it to any of the rehearsals and we were still able to figure out our part. It didn’t hurt being familiar with the story.
Costumes. Lydia got a cool white and gold get up €“ she was a little bummed there were no wings, but all in all looked every bit the part of the heavenly host. Jodi had a blue cape thing that she put on to make her look like Mary. Or super church goer. Elsa didn’t really have a costume, but Jodi had put her in a bright pink dress, so obviously she was Jesus. And I got a kind of small for me striped pull it over the head robe and a piece of cloth and rope to tie around my head. It didn’t really cover my blue plaid western shirt, and probably my brown engineer boots weren’t typical turn of the millennium footwear, but other than that I looked a lot like the 4th grade shepherds and wise men. Except three times their weight and twice their height.
The program was in lieu of the sermon so after the gospel reading up we went, Myself, Mary, and 20 kids barely tall enough to make it into the Ikea ball pit. The only prop was a wooden manger filled with hay that Mary stood behind and I stood wedged between that and the pulpit. A couple of the 4 year old cows really took a liking to the hay so about 2 minutes into the program I had to move baby Jesus’ bed. Then it was time for everyone to sit down. And everybody did. Including one of the angels who sat right in my spot next to Mary. So I remained standing. As if I didn’t stand out enough already.
Then we were up again. Then we were down again. This time I slipped into a spot next to the aforementioned cows. Still not exactly blending in, but a step in the right direction. Though they could no longer reach the manger, they had pilfered enough hay early on to keep them busy for the entire 20 minutes. In fact, while reaching for some of this hay the cow next to me took a nose dive down the four steps leading up to the altar. And who saved him? Not the lady with the cape. Joseph. At this point I decided I was no longer the remedial adult who wiggled his way into the children’s Christmas program, but rather my role had switched to being an embedded peace keeper. An embedded peace keeper that also helped the kids sing a little louder.
And so the program continued, Mary held pink-girl Jesus, Angel Lydia hung out with the angels, and I sat with the cows and kept them from throwing hay in the air. Later during the passing of the peace I got about 12 heartfelt congratulations from folks on a job well done. To which I replied, €œThanks, it took 30 years but I finally got the part.€
On the way home Lydia’s comment on the whole thing was, €œThat’s not how I thought it would be. I thought you’d lay Elsa in the hay and I’d stand behind you and say, ‘glory to God in the highest and peace to God’s people on earth.’€
Maybe next year kid.