A Sandy Eagle story
Sandy reached over to the printer, picking up the pages as they emerged. Four pages of a finely-crafted sermon for tonight: Christmas Eve. She had called it “Silent Night, Holy Night” Not exactly original but she felt good about it. A short, meditative invitation to the greatest story in the world.
She folded them and put them inside her Bible, marking the Lukan passage for the service later. As she did, she prayed that somehow, that sermon would do what it needed to do. That the words on these pages would leap from the page as the baby had leapt inside old Elizabeth from the Christmas story.
Yes that was it; that they would leap from the page, from her lips, and reach out to the people in the pews, meeting the spirits of those very people leaping back toward her. And that in the process something would be born; the knowledge, body-deep and solid, that God was among them in flesh and blood and bone.
She took a deep breath. That was for later. Before this sermon would be preached later this evening, there was the pageant. Time to go to the hall where the children were preparing for the drama they had worked so hard to prepare. That, no doubt, would include leaping of a different sort; with any luck at all, not literally. She closed the door to her office, turned out the lights, and started down the hall. Twenty minutes until the family service would begin.
From the sanctuary, she could hear the sounds of the congregation gathering: Bonnie’s piano prelude; a lovely medley of soft, meditative carols, perfect for setting the mood. Candles set in birch holders placed on every windowsill, reflected in the stained glass. The scent of pine, winter boots and cheap candle wax, a banner made by the children; angels of felt with round ‘O’ mouths and “O Come Let us Adore Him” cut with safety scissors and glued onto the banner. It was beautiful in every way.
Sandy loved Christmas Eve. The darkness; atmosphere crackling with cold enchantment, the music, the simple wonder of it all. That they would gather for worship tonight, when the rest of the year that place inside them would go hungry, was a source of wonder and pain….and hope.
Not to mention, the feeling that there was always a great deal at stake tonight. Whatever “doing it right” meant, Sandy felt the pressure/hope/expectation of Christmas Eve very personally. No time to linger on that branch, which was probably a good thing. Those thoughts can only take you to scary places. Let’s just enjoy the moment. Off to make sure the pageant is ready to go.
She could hear the excitement before she got to the basement. Opening the door, the energy hit like a tsunami. Children and noise everywhere:
- 9 shepherds racing, (wait for it…)
- 8 angels texting,
- 7 toddlers wailing,
- 6 parents pleading,
- FIVE MINUTES TO GO!
- 4 duelling sheep
- 3 lost kings
- spilled frankincense,
- and a donkey with ADHD.
And snippets of conversations:
Where is the star? Who is supposed to have the star?
Ummm the shepherds were playing hockey with their staffs and they used it for a puck and…
Never mind. It’s ok. Just look up as though you see something. Can you do that?
Sheep – line up over there please. Yes there. Thank you. Tyler, that’s not a sheep costume. That’s a – that’s a lion! Is that a lion costume?
He wanted to be a lion, so in the end we said what the heck … he can lie down with the lamb – it’ll be great. The only problem is, he tends to roar. The narrators are going to have to speak over his roaring. I hope that’s ok.
Mary, do you have your doll?
Lindsay forgot to bring it so we wrapped up a bottle of coke. Once it’s in the manger no one will notice. I hope you don’t mind, I drank some. I’m pretty sure the top will stay on though.
I did not forget the doll! Nathan threw it and now it’s caught in the basketball hoop.
Amy what’s wrong – are you crying?
No, I’m allergic to frankincense. It’s making my eyes water.
Amy – there isn’t really frankincense in the bottle, dear. Look inside – it’s empty.
Well I’m allergic to something. Don’t worry though. I took a Benadryl so I’ll be ok. If I don’t fall asleep.
Sandy looked at her finely-crafted sermon, folded and placed in her Bible, marking the Luke passage. She looked down at that sermon. She looked up at the chaos all around her.
The worship had already begun.
