The Best Christmas Pageant Ever

Being an "ECHO" Catholic in my early adulthood, one Christmas Eve many years ago , I found myself in our local Catholic Church for Christmas Eve service at 11:30 pm. (an "ECHO" Christian is someone who attends church on Easter, Christmas, Hospital, Obituary)

The church was beautifully adorned with greens and a manger on the chancel.  The air was perfumed with the freshness of evergreen and resin scent of frankincense.

I remember asking myself what could I possibly be thinking, dragging myself out on this Christmas Eve night, when I could have been in a warm bed sleeping.

But then, the Priest/Pastor of the church began to speak.

He was one of twin, Irish priests, his brother-the father had a parish in Baltimore .

He told a story I will never forget.

"My brother told me of a Christmas pageant in his own Parish Church, which was unlike any other

he had ever experienced." , Father Henry began.

"The children were putting on their yearly Nativity pageant.

 The very young children being coached into

their places and taught their lines.

Each week for the three weeks preceding, the little boy who was the Innkeeper followed his directions

dutifully and without deviation.

As directed, Joseph "knocked" on the curtain and the Innkeeper boy appeared through the separation

of the curtain. Joseph explained that he and Mary were there for the census, and Mary was cold and

about to have a baby.

The Innkeeper boy, on queue and in a brusk tone would say "There's NO room here. You can't stay here!"  Then the Innkeeper boy would disappear behind the curtain again, as Joseph and Mary would walk off the stage.

Things took a turn on performance night, however.

All the kids giving their best performance and looking like miniature nativity figures, all lines delivered as

rehearsed...until Joseph and Mary arrived at the Inn.

Joseph knocked and told the little "Innkeeper boy" about their plight, Mary being cold, and about to have a baby. The Innkeeper boy, with rehearsed brio, said "There's NO room here. You can't stay here!"

Joseph turned from the door of the Inn, and with Mary .

However, the little Innkeeper boy did not disappear behind the curtain as was rehearsed so many times before.

Instead he watched Joseph and Mary, and tears began to spring to his eyes.

Just as Joseph and Mary reached the end of the stage, the little Innkeeper boy cried out "WAIT!"

Bewildered, Joseph and Mary stopped and looked at the little boy.

The Innkeeper boy then said "You can have my room.".

The congregation erupted in a standing ovation.

The emotion of the little boy had "stopped the show" (literally).

Father Henry's brother said they proceeded to have the best Christmas Pageant he'd ever seen.

I remember that Christmas Eve, still, when Father Henry in his Irish broag,

 told us the story of the best Christmas pagent ever.

I find myself thinking so many "what if's" about my own life, and the life of Jesus.

What IF the Innkeeper had given up his own room for a stranger couple , with child, cold and weary?

What IF Christ's final day on earth were marked with kindness of strangers, instead of scared by cruelty?

What IF Judas hadn't "turned his master in" for pieces of silver?

What kind of World would we be living in

if kindness and compassion were the headlines

and not violence and despair?

In this moment, I remember something my guide, Andrew, taught me.

There are no "small" miracles.

Only those miracles met with "small" appreciation.

Until next time,

Merry Christmas,

Eat something wonderful

and lead a life worth living.

-Kim

RED Friday-A Christmas Witness




This morning began painfully early for me.

As many mornings (during the holiday season) this

one was helplessly hostile.

I had forgotten to go and get my blood work done for my

endocrinologist, and my appointment was this morning at 9:00.

I rolled out of bed. After some morning ablutions,I dressed in

the same clothes I had taken off the night before (a ritual vaguely

reminiscent of my twenties, when I partied--some).

After coming out into the living room, I grumbled "hello" to my husband

(a morning person who is up every morning at 4:30).

I remembered that I wanted a book on tape for the ride to the lab.

Yes, I am the only human being in Florida with an actual cassette player

in my car. This time of year I like to listen to "Skipping Christmas".

When my search fell vacant, I sniped at my husband about a box of

books on tape, which-unknown to me, sent him into a panic, as he had just taken

such a box to our church garage sale.

I barked at him again "Just forget it!" . I went back into our computer room and gave another cursory look for the yuletide tapes, only this time I found them.

Without coffee or kiss, I mounted my Ford Taurus in the thick morning fog, after

pressing tape 1 into the deck, and made my way to the Gateway facility MIMA Lab.

Closing my car door behind me (at the building) with Luther Krank's admonition "I hope you step in a frozen puddle" jingling in my ears, I made my way to the doors

of the facility.

I checked the time on my cell phone, fifteen minutes to go before the doors open, and it's 61 degrees (and damp) outside. I hadn't grabbed a jacket on the way out, in my

surly egress from the house. I crossed my arms tightly against me, determined to tough it out.

A man walked up after, and said casually "Doors aren't open, yet?". I gave him a slightly more scrutinizing look and said "Apparently not, otherwise, I probably would not be standing out here." He (good naturedly) laughed at himself. "Yeah---here's your sign" (an allusion to comic Bill Engvall, whom I enjoy). Despite myself, I smiled at him.

As we were standing there, more people walked up, two women behind me, then two more men. All shiveringly silent.

I turned and looked at them, and with my typical a-plumb, I broke the silence.

"When I'm at the hospital, in an elevator, I usually have this urge to start a sing-a-long".

Everyone laughed. Not politely, but genuinely. One woman dressed in a beautiful red blouse ( not unlike the one I had donned for the mission) said "Go for it".

Apologetically, I said it was too early for singing "even for me".

Then the slender, elegant woman just behind me, mentioned the shopping on black friday. The woman in the red blouse contributed that she had gone to Walmart and their were palates out in front of the store when she walked in. She had asked the store employees what everyone was lined up for, and the employee had told her "bed sheets".

I remember thinking (and saying) "Those must have been some sheets".

One man offered that it's "Pearl Harbor day" and he came back this morning because there were 53 people online at the lab yesterday. The next man offered "Well this is like RED Friday" (an allusion to the blood drawing about to ensue).

I looked at everyone, standing online at a medical lab-at near-six in the morning and found myself thinking "What would Jesus do?"

My perceptive mind thought "Well, Jesus, would probably have raised his hands and healed them all so they wouldn't have to engage in this appalling ritual ever again".

I admonished myself "Well that's off the table for me."

Then a short detour to "What would my Pastor do?" My Pastor is a lovely and aereodyte man who is prodigiously proud of his mobile-Coachman- home- vehicle. He would most likely regale the growing group with tails of his travels.

So, left to my own devises, I engaged in introducing myself to the group assembled.

I shook hands and said "I'm Kim" and gathered names.

The woman in the red blouse was named "Vivian". When I told her that I thought her blouse was beautiful, she smiled and said "I have an office Christmas party today".

All the people seemed pleased and slightly amused at my activity of introducing myself and shaking hands.

I added to my introduction "I will be later referred to as "Patient number # 1 by the lab".

It sort of broke the tension of anticipation.

As the round of "what did you do on Black Friday" came to me, I mentioned that we did that "once". "My husband, who is 6'8" oddly, never gets a cart rolled over him or people running into him" (I offered--I'm sure they thought I was telling a story).

As the security guard (finally) unlocked the door, we all paced in, and I got my assigned number for "service", Nolan (the "here's your sign, guy") said "see it didn't start at #1, there's 300 people in front of us!" We laughed and joked and sat in chairs, as Vivian (sitting down next to me) tried to take my ticket, playfully.

It wasn't long before my number was called. Why is it, when we're at the lab, waiting for someone to take our blood, that we react as though we've won the lotto when our number is called?

My lab tech, Nancy was friendly, efficient, and kind. Even though it took two sticks to get all the blood she needed, she apologized for bruising me. Giving me tape that matched my Christmas ball red top (for both arms) .

As I left, I waved at the patients still in chairs and called out "Merry Christmas" and received the same in return..from, I think, most of them.

One of the older men caught me as I was leaving and said "What is your belief system?" (as I looked at him, I thought, "here's someone who's been stung by the Political Correctness insect, at some point). I said "I'm a Christian, sir." , giving him as soft a smile as my caffeine- jones would allow.

He offered "You seem very happy---for a Christian." (I waved and left).

Driving home, I thought I would write on my experience with RED-Friday.

As Kyle (of South Park fame) might intone, I think I've learned something, today.

I've learned that Christians can be Merry at Christmas, even in 61 degree weather

waiting for the lab to open.

I've learned that people outside my church social circle, are not nearly as fright-some

as I've feared.

Let this be a lesson to one and all. Christians aren't grumpy at Christmas (unless they are at home---sorry Walt.).



Merry Christmas to all.

There are some siblings

There are some siblings....
After a disturbing (and some how, consistent) incident involving my older sister, I've spent the morning reading quotes about sisters. Most of them are heart-rending beautiful sentiments about "competition" when one is younger and "best friends" when one becomes an adult.
 My experience with my sister (both of my siblings-actually) Have been completely different from these sentiments, that seem to be perfect for framing.

 There are some sisters, when they see you in a restaurant, bolt for the far end of the room and hide behind their hand pretending not to see you.

 There are some siblings who only contact one at Christmas so that you can bring their near-invalid mother over so they can see her at Christmas.

There are some siblings, when you ask for help, after caring for Great Aunt, Father and Mother, and you, ask for help, will criticize you for complaining about your exhaustion.

There are some siblings, after you, and your husband have dealt with your invalid mothers, taxes, health insurance, health care, medications, have lost all of your social life because of taking care of your mother 24/7 for years, and ask for help, will accuse you of being unreasonable in your request for help and imply you have miss-managed your mother's funds.

 There are siblings who will not call to see how you (while caring for your parents) and your parents are, for years at a time.

There are siblings, when you ask for help with funeral experiences will accuse you of "tapping them for money" even though they have for years not helped with the finances of the care of father or mother.

 There are siblings who will not help you scatter creamanes of your father or mother.

There are siblings who will not want to speak to you or have any contact with you after the last of your parents have died.

So often, people (counselors) will ask
"what do you think YOU did to garner such behavior from your brother and sister."
 Years of introspection, self recrimination, forgiveness therapy have led me to this answer.
I took care of their parents when they would not.
 and the greatest of the offenses: I was born.

So to the people who refuse to understand siblings who have not spoken for years on end:
Who believe that the person being ignored and shunned is somehow the perpetrator of vile incidents;
 Who have lovely sentiments about their sisters and brothers, (whom they see yearly during holidays and vacations ) and have wonderful experiences and have deduced that I must be unforgiving, greedy or somehow "faulty" emotionally in these relationships, allow me to say:

You have not had my experiences.
 You do not have my siblings,
and you do not know my soul.