Not an Angel

One of the annual events of my year is the Christmas program that happens at school each year. Even though I've long since outlived the point in life where I have any children of my own participating in Christmas programs or Christmas pageants, the very fact of my teaching means that once each year, "my kids" take part in the ritual of song and performance that is the re-enactment of the traditional Christian story of the birth of the historical Jesus... I never see the nativity story re-told that I am not transported in memory back to a winter long ago when my own daughter was small, and she was dragooned into a church pageant to play the part of one of the "Heavenly Host."

She was, at the time about a month shy of her second birthday -- really just a baby. However, because she was quite verbal, and tall for her age, those who were in charge of the festivities viewed her as older than she really was. They were quite sure that she'd make a wonderful angel. I tried and tried to convince them that she wasn't old enough for a role in the play yet, but there was no swaying the mavens of the church. They were determined, and so it was that my wild child was set to make her acting debut in the role of Christmas angel.

The appointed night arrived and all was in readiness. Wings and halo and shining white robe were donned and my darling looked somewhat angelic, but she was not a happy camper. I tried my best to soothe her, but she was having none of it... I feared the worst, but hoped things would go alright, after all, angels really only had to parade onto the stage and flutter a bit -- I was willing to hope that her natural instinct for the lime-light might see us through.

Well, onto the stage filed the Multitude. They made it all the way to the center and the lights came up. My precious one got right to the middle. Stopped dead center. Put her little baby fists on her baby hips, stared out into the crowd, stomped her baby foot and declared in a full stage voice -- "I AM NOT AN ANGEL -- NOT AN ANGEL!" She ripped her halo off. Tossed it to the floor and marched directly down the aisle and plopped into my lap. So much for that. That's my girl -- then and now... Not an angel, but a teller of truths.

I eventually learned that there was no pushing the child where she wouldn't go. Still isn't. She taught me about telling your own truth.

Anyway. As the holidays approach and you listen in your own way for those heavenly strains, I hope you maybe hear, above all the cacophony of the season, the voices of all the little ones who declare in honest baby voices the truth of their lives -- "NOT AN ANGEL!"

swan