Remember when you were in 7th grade and you babysat every weekend, and you would watch “Love Boat” and “Fantasy Island” and eat all the snacks in the fridge and dream of a day your hair might feather as beautifully as Julie McCoy Your Cruise Director’s? And then a commercial would come on and you’d settle in for the opening cheezy-eerie notes of the “FAHNTASY Island” theme, and that little propeller plane would land and Tattoo would yell, “Ze plane, ze plane?” And Ricardo Montalban (make sure your roll your “r” when you say that) would come out with his impeccable white tux and, like, SUAVE his way down the path to meet the plane? And he would say, “SMILES, everbody, SMILES!”
Consider PeaceBang your Mr. Roarke of Christmas Eve. Smiles! Warmth! Cheer, faith, hope! SMILES when the ushers change your lighting cue for “Silent Night!” SMILES when little squirts shriek and heckle you during your homily! SMILES when someone’s cell phone goes off during the “O How A Rose Ere Bloominb” solo!
Don’t miss a second of it, precious pigeons. For today’s irritating snafus that could get your panties in a wad will be tomorrow’s fond memories and great stories. And because God’s own Light being born into the world with barnyard animals is not, after all, a terribly dignified situation and isn’t God saying something with that?
Smiles, and breathe, and wear the shiny boots with the gold buckle, Barbara, and I will wear my glittery eye shadow and the beautiful haircomb that Brigid sent (thank you, lovey!) and make sure to brush your teeth and get the cookie crumbs out of your beards, and remember to remind everyone to pick up their poinsettias after the service.
God bless us, every one!!! Merry Christmas, dear and faithful ministers. Be sure to drop by after it’s all over to leave your stories and reflections on this Big Night.
MWAH!
PB
Ah, PB, you Balm of Gilead. On Sunday, our normally octogenarian-heavy congregation had a 3-year-old tot who did not appreciate all the talking. So she danced instead; up the aisle, with the choir, in front of me as I gave the message–utterly distracting to everyone, including me. But at the end of the closing hymn (“Joyful, Joyful, We Adore Thee”) she yelled, “That was beautiful!” And with that, my Christmas was complete. Whatever happens tonight is just the baubles on top of the present. Merry Christmas all!
Today was most likely my last Christmas Eve service at the church I am serving at as Seminary Intern. I am looking towards graduation in June and who knows what after that. The church I serve also happens to be my parents’ church. Knowing what Christmas is like for ministers, my minister gave me the gift of having my family light the Advent Wreath tonight. My little candle would not stay lit, necessitating three trips to the candles on the communion table (the third time with a different candle!). And yet, it did not fluster me, there was time. Mom was still reading the scripture, sister was still wrangling the nieces (3 1/2 and almost 5). Immediately following I was doing Children’s moments, reading a book Room for a Little One by Martin Waddell. My nieces who normally give me a hard time if I do Children’s moments when they visit were perfect listeners, even when I dropped the book while trying to juggle a mic and turn the page at the same time. But I recovered without incident. Later, I held the second bread for communion and it was the first time I was so very moved by the line of people coming forward, looking each in the eye, getting special smiles like never before in return. “The body of Christ broken for you, Mary” I said to one church member. I think that is what did me in. What made my eyes tear up and my heart swell and start to crack, was the knowledge that I will not share another Christmas Eve with this community that has so shaped and strengthened me on this journey. For all I am grateful.
Pack your first Christmas Eve service of the evening with the twice-a-year crowd, add a generous dollop of sugared up younglings, stir in a splash of seasonal pageantry, and sit back and savor the ride! LOL! Last year, we had a visiting toddler who thought Jesus in the manager scene was a take-away toy, and we had to run interference to prevent a kidnapping. She was, however, the perfect example to add to my homily–how all of us are seeking Him, and when you encounter the Divine, grab it with both hands and own it!
Well the decision everyone has been waiting for – no boots. Even with a PB blessing. I put them on with the robe, took a good, long, honest look in the mirror, and they just looked…funny. With their wide, flat heels they looked like riding boots, no matter how toney & expensive. Good thing I brought along the perfect black pumps. World saved!