Tag Archives: children’s ministry

11 days: Pa-rum pum pum pum

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Well, yesterday was our annual Christmas pageant, and I am happy to announce there were no Herdman moments to report.  So in terms of memorable programs, this one will go not go down in the record books for mishaps.  If I were truthful, I would say the mishaps really belonged to the director known as me.

When I agreed to return to directing, our church’s Christian Education committee asked me if I had a script in mind.  I spent some hours researching and discovered two that I liked.  One especially grabbed my attention and did so for the committee members.  We all perused the marketing materials, and I was given the go-ahead to purchase the set.

The date was chosen, the rehearsal schedule set, a couple co-directors came on board, and finally the box arrived. Like a child on Christmas morning, I ripped the packaging open and began digging through the box.  I found the sets of cd’s and DVD’s, but I kept digging for the actual play itself.  Eventually, I dug until I reached the other side of the box and no script could be found.

After a frantic dash to the website to figure out what went wrong, I discovered the problem was with me (and the other adults who looked over the original materials).  There was no script.  Only curriculum and some really jazzy music videos were what the group promised.  How in the cat hair did we all miss that?  When my daughter got home, I lamented our job as co-directors just got harder.  She was a better sport about it than I, saying “Mom, we’ve got this!”

She gave up four hours the next weekend for the two of us to intertwine the curriculum materials and the videos into a script.  It really helps when you attend a smaller church and when you are somewhat familiar with your actors’ personalities.

As rehearsals progressed, it was amazing to watch how everyone worked together.  This included one mom who stumbled across some amazing choreography for one of the songs.  Since we are simple servants open to input, we jumped for joy for such a great suggestion.  Our other co-director added amazing touches that added so much to the final performance, but what completely blew us away were the ideas the kids themselves added to the show.

To use up some nervous energy, we went around the room before the service allowing each one present to share their most favorite part.  My heart melted when a few chose to say their favorite part was a way another child did their part. What encouragers! Our curtain call came just as we wound ourselves back to me.  They inquired my favorite part. Honestly, I told them all my absolute favorite part was getting to work with all of them.  The sighs of contentment said that was not the answer they expected.

The pageant went beautifully with perfectly said lines, adorable cuteness in preschoolers who always steal the show, as well as  great songs and dancing.  However for me, there was a pre-pageant moment that stuck in my heart. As we waited in the wings to enter, I went through the line high-fiving each one, telling them how awesome they are and how proud of each one I was. We could hear the offering song, and that was when my eyes could no longer hold in my emotions.  Those sweet little angelic voices were singing along to “The First Noel”.  It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard before a pageant because they sang with unhindered joy.  It would not have mattered if everything else had gone wrong because I could bottle up that moment to savor forever!

noel

christmas cactus

13 days: Come they told me

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For the last month and a half, I have been volunteering in my church with another mom and the Girl Awesome to direct the children’s Christmas pageant. Herding cats is a term someone used when I told them I couldn’t do something because of our dress rehearsal today. There may be some truth to that, but I LOVE this job. I will say that we are definitely not dealing with the Herdman’s (as in the book, The Worst Best Christmas Pageant Ever), and believe me, I am thanking God for that every chance I get.

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On Friday, I received a very sweet call from our youth pastor (who also serves as our music coordinator). He wanted to make sure that what he set up for worship (think: mics and stands) would not interfere with my pint-sized actors. I assured him that we were flexible as a troupe, and no matter what the show would go on!

I confess I had to learn that the hard way. The tone of his voice revealed that he was a little perplexed. To clear up the confusion, I shared that I could write a book on all the things that could go wrong. For many years, the pageant was co-directed by one of my best friends and me. Our very first pageant was definitely the one that broke in rookies like us.

Our church’s tradition is to have an advent reading (replete with the lighting of candles) at the beginning of the service during the season. As we waited in the foyer for the performance time, we were completely oblivious to the miracle known as the best pyrotechnic show on earth waiting at the altar for us. On cue, we entered with our kiddos. We were so proud. Remember pride goes before the fall.  We had worked for months on sets, costumes, lines, and now was our big moment to shine. And SHINE we did! During our first song, one of our preschoolers (who I swear his parents fed him sugary cereal that morning) smacked the column holding the lit advent wreath.

Y’all the whole church gasped collectively, holding their breath while watching in what appeared to be moving in slow motion the lit wreath flip over and over, complete with a somersault over the organ. Thankfully the organist had already taken a pew seat. At that moment, my friend and I mouthed, “Ohhhhhhhh nooooo!” Both thinking there must be a special place for women who were responsible for burning down the church. In what could only have been God’s divine intervention, the flames suddenly extinguished themselves right before the wreath hit the carpeted floor. I was scarred forever and now have a personal rider in my volunteer contract that states all advent candles WILL BE BLOWN OUT BEFORE MY CHILDREN TAKE THE STAGE.

Lest you think that was the worst of it. It was not. Our church service is broadcast on the local access channel. Thank the good Lord it is not syndicated. Otherwise, one year we might have been confused with a Las Vegas wedding chapel. Even if everything in the world went wrong, the parents and the grandparents cheer for the performers much like the parents in “The Music Man” musical. The uproarious applause drowned out the live mic left in the hands of one of our middle school kings. While taking their bows, this young man was doing his best Elvis impersonation saying, “Thank yaaaa!. Thank ya very muuuch!” He was the king bearing frankincense not the King of Rock and Roll. Imagine my surprise when I decided to tune into the broadcast and heard his interesting ending to our performance.

But I think the most memorable was the one we included some adults in the program. In addition to directing, I sang a duet with my son, Reed. While we were singing our song, one of little angels (in costume not in behavior that day) got a little too much in the spirit. He started a-wiggling and a-jiggling. I could sense some movement behind me, and the next thing you know, all I could hear was a big kerplunk, followed by tear inducing laughter. A quick glance over my left shoulder revealed that our little angel had fallen off the raised altar area and was wedged upside down between said altar and the piano. All I saw were his little legs frantically trying to help him break free which only made matters worse. Meanwhile back at the mic, I was faced with the moral dilemma of do I keep singing or rescue this kid. I saw his dad making a beeline to the piano; so, I did what any professional would do. I kept singing. Not my proudest moment, but like I said, the show must go on.

After hearing a couple of my stories, the sweet pastor said. “You know those are the parts the audience loves the most, right.” I assured him I knew that to be the case which has made the job much better over the years. I am going to bed tonight knowing something can and will go wrong tomorrow. I will be laughing right along with everyone else, soaking in the memories we will hold most dear.

But if that involves fire trucks, I may be retiring.

15 days: The blonde-headed baby

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Each month, I have the honor of speaking to our church’s AWANA kids. I try to coordinate my talk with the theme of the night, but that is not always possible. Last night’s theme was “dress like a mess”. While I have spoken at women’s groups on “making your mess your message”, I didn’t feel kindergarteners through sixth graders had enough life experience to really make a go of that talk. So I did what I always do when preparing a speech (for any audience), I waited for God to spark my heart and thoughts.

About four days before AWANA, I felt that old nudge as to what my talk should be based upon. It took some coordinating, but after digging through countless Rubbermaid totes in my storage room, I found the object I needed . . . although I kept her hidden until mid-way through my allotted time last night.

Next week, the kiddos will be celebrating Jesus’ birthday; so, I opened with telling them about when I was a little girl. In some ways, I feel sorry for them because a beloved part of my Christmases growing up is completely foreign to their world. The face of every adult in the room travelled back in time when I told the kids about how my brother and I would wait and wait and WAIT some more for the Christmas catalogs to arrive. We would spend hours perusing through the wish books picking out just the gifts we hoped to receive. I heard a few chuckles when I said the Montgomery Ward catalog was always my favorite.

I told the AWANA clubbers about a Christmas when my whole view on toys changed. So unlike the world these kids live in, back in the day, brunette baby dolls were virtually non-existent. One year, my beloved MW catalog had a tiny baby doll with (Yep! You guessed it) brunette molded hair. Oh! I wanted that baby! How I wanted that baby! I wished and wished and could not wait to wake up on Christmas morning, assured she would be there waiting.

Only that is not what happened. There under the tree was another blonde-headed baby doll. I was heartbroken, and though I tried my best to love the little blonde baby, she was never going to be in the league of the Bye Lo Baby.

My precious Bye-Lo Baby surrounded by an almost 70 year old quilt made by my Mama.

My precious Bye-Lo Baby surrounded by an almost 70 year old quilt made by my Mama.

The baby of my dreams made another catalog appearance the following Christmas and eventually made her way into my loving arms.

I have been busy helping to direct this year’s children’s Christmas pageant at our church, and each week we have a lesson, detailing the different gifts of advent, that corresponds to a portion of our script. One week I asked my sweet kiddos to name five gifts they received last year. After a period of time, I had them list all the gifts they would like this year. Even though I could have predicted the outcome, the actual results of my experiment were startling.

Reassuring them all, I confessed that a gift I had been dreaming of for many years which still sits in the box in came in. The lust and lure of gifts are not only appealing to children with visions of sugarplums in their heads.

Unlike the baby doll I never wanted (but who grew into a nice member of my childhood pretend family), there is a baby who once came into the world who will never and who has never disappointed me. Though, I cannot say the same about myself to that baby. I have done plenty of things that have made him sad throughout my life, but his steady presence in all I do has been the best present I have ever received.

I would be lying if I told you I wasn’t pining for more this Christmas. I truly do want more: more of the peace that comes from spending time with that baby, more of the joy that comes from being content, more time to be a blessing to others, and more love to share. I realize that to get more there will need to be less: less hurried, less focus on things that don’t truly matter, and less wishing for things of this world that don’t truly satisfy.

If I can (with God’s help) do that, then I will have MORE than enough Christmas.

Author’s note: On the lighter side, I love to laugh. I can always use MORE of that in my day. I knew the subject of today’s blog a few days ago, and I always wonder how much of what I teach or speak on actually sticks with an audience. This morning, God gave the answer to that question as well as a joyful bowl of laughter. Our little Sally Gal recently was given a hamster. He is a delightful little creature whom she adores, and it appears the feeling is mutual. He rests in her hand as soon as she takes him out to play. Of course, every day she serenades him multiple times. Her little angelic voice can be heard singing all sorts of tunes and melodies. The rest of us really like “Lord Business” (named after a favorite character from the Lego movie), but he does really put an impact on our sleeping. Erin says she believes he is training for a marathon as he runs on his wheel ALL NIGHT LONG. Alternate names of “Squeaky McGoo” and “Lord Busyness” have been floated around by the big people in our house. On our trip to the college tour, we stopped by a huge pet store and invested in a whisper quiet wheel. Let’s just say we have a sad hamster today because I think the wheel is too small for him. Downtrodden and heartbroken for her buddy, Cloie told me at breakfast, “Mom, I think that new hamster wheel is his blonde-headed baby doll!” She was listening all along!