| Sunny Side Up Dec. 18, 2002 �2002, Kathleen Gibson Just glowing at the Christmas pageant The school Christmas pageant�ah, the stories. The shepherd who swung his staff and knocked a wise man out cold. The �sheep� who left toothmarks on the leg of the baby grand. The fight over the Baby Jesus that left the winner sitting in the manger, guarding and scowling. There were no school Christmas pageants during the years I home-educated my daughter. But she�s back at school this year, a small private one tucked between farmland and sky, in no particular town, but halfway between two. Yesterday I drove four hours to attend her Christmas musical. I chose a seat up front, the better to watch her. We�re all the same, we pageant parents. We bend our ears to hear our child�s voice above the rest. We pounce on the Kodak moments, feel our hearts will surely burst. There�s something throat-catching about a platform full of costumed children�our children. It�s hard to imagine those cherubs ever being responsible for entire calendars of lost sleep, a whole lifetime of worry, and a constant drip in the bottom of the bank account. �Christmas in Egypt�, featured a toddler Jesus, who played his part impeccably�no doubt aided by the cookies Mary kept slipping him. The children remained on stage for a remarkable half hour, watching and responding beautifully to their music director�s every signal. But a half hour is a long time for children to be still. One of the smallest boys, imitating the musicians off to the side, swayed and bounded on the spot. First he played a rock guitar, then a rollicking keyboard. His enthusiastic movements mussed the draping of his long white costume and one skinny shoulder slipped entirely free of its wide neck. But his dark eyes shone like mountain pools, and his smile never wavered. My daughter couldn�t stay still either, I noticed. She swayed, moved both arms in time to the music. My eyes clung to her. A tiny blonde girl also moved constantly. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and hugged herself. Her chin bobbed. She uncrossed her arms, tucked her hands in her rope belt, looped them up and around again. Her eyes darted. Untangling her hands, she threw her arms wide and high, embraced the world, yawned and arched her back. Right near the end the director lifted her own arms, in an exuberant rolling gesture. �We�re almost done, pay attention, don�t give out yet, keep it coming,� it said. Except on the biggest roll her right index finger hooked her glasses and flipped them clean off her nose. She caught them though, and they were back on before you could say �Let-nothing-you-dismay.� When it was all over I stood. Clapped and cheered with all the other parents. I believe God took a front seat at his son�s first Christmas pageant. I think the skies trembled with his cheers. I know he understands the love behind our pride in our children. Even when our child is the music director. If these words inspired thoughts of your own, email [email protected] |
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