One of my favorite Christmas memories is that of Christmas 1994, Sarah's first Christmas. We were living in Tilden, Nebraska, the birthplace of L. Ron Hubbard (another story!) and Richie Ashburn. We served four churches together, including the United Methodist Church of Tilden and the United Church of Christ in Tilden. One of the gifts of grace in that appointment was singing in the adult choir at Tilden UCC. It's a unique choir for such a small church, as it's led by professional musician and music teacher, Pat, who grew up in the church. It was also a fun group of people to be with, and we laughed as much as we sang with those folks. When Sarah was a baby, I brought her to choir rehearsals and she was passed around as we sang. Every Sunday morning, I'd pack her up in her car seat, strapped into my F150 pick-up truck, and take her with me to whatever two churches I was preaching at that morning. People in the congregation took turns holding her through the services, and would often fight over her. Except, of course, when she was fussy.
In 1994, the Peace UCC choir of Tilden put on its annual choir cantata. Pat asked me to do the solo as Mary, the mother of Jesus. It didn't take long for some choir members to think that it would be so darn cute to place Sarah up front during the cantata, as the baby Jesus. I didn't know how this would go.... a 6 month-old baby just doesn't lay still and quiet! But we borrowed a Nebraska Huskers bean bag chair, covered it with blankets, wrapped Sarah in her Lion King blanket, and laid her in the bean-bag manger. I put a blue union suit on her, just to make her a little "boyish," but you couldn't see it anyway because of her wrappings. The night of the performance, she got a fever of 101 degrees. I paced and worried, gave her Tylenol, and by the time of the performance her fever had gone down and she was pretty mellow.
We placed the bean-bag manger up front, at the end of the center aisle of the church so everyone could see her as we sang the Christmas story. She was quiet and lay still, though I nabbed one of her babysitters to sit up front and keep an eye on her, and to scoop her up if needed. I was nervous about my solo anyway, but even more so because I didn't know what Sarah would do! But as soon as I started to sing, Sarah did too. She wasn't upset, she wasn't crying, she just started kind of yelling out, "ya, ya, yaaaaahh..." When I paused in the music, she was quiet. When I sang, she started up again. It was all I could do to keep from laughing and to keep singing!
After my solo, her babysitter came up, scooped her up and shrugged at me with an expression of "sorry!" But afterward, after all the usual accolades of the whole program, people told me that during my solo, though I did a good job, Sarah kind of stole the show. There wasn't a dry eye in the place, I was told, because it seemed that Sarah recognized my voice and just joined in with me. She wasn't upset, but rather quite content, just adding her voice to the praises of the night, reaching across the notes to her mommy from her bean-bag manger.
As soon as I got her back in my arms, I realized that she needed changing! The baby Jesus-girl stunk a little! Christmas was never more meaningful than after I'd been pregnant, felt that life growing in me, and gave birth. I felt I'd gotten a chance to embody the Christmas message, to connect more with Mary as a living woman, who knew the messiness and fear of helping to bring forth a life and watching that life grow in wonder and beauty. Every Christmas I remember that night when Sarah and I got to sing to each other in the candlelight, just like I think Mary and Jesus might have done on a similar night forever ago. And my soul magnifies the Lord!
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