last-minute Christmas shoppers, and I was left with my jealously guarded wrapping paper and my own family problems. While I stood there shaking my head at my own interference, somebody who probably had more problems than I do bought the last copy of Psycho . This had to be a sign. Silently I asked for forgiveness and took the Vienna Choir Boys home for Ginger.
7
Our girls have never known a Christmas Eve without a candlelight service, so as darkness approached they got ready without prompting. Junie was excited about the pageant, even though she has temporarily settled on interplanetary colonization as an answer to life’s biggest questions. Junie’s personal theology is like a river that rushes downstream, gathering and encompassing everything in its path. Sometimes the waters move too swiftly.
Vel and Sid had volunteered to come to the service, too. Sid may have spent last night punching her pillow, but now she looked as if she was determined to get over Bix Minard. At least she doesn’t have to ask herself what she did wrong. She was that far ahead in the recovery game.
Vel finally dragged herself away from the stove. For our dinner Junie had made honey wheat bread and vegetable soup that would simmer in the slow cooker until we returned from church. Ginger and Cliff weren’t coming to the service, but they would meet us at 7:00 for one final family love feast.
There are disadvantages to living where we do. The church is beside and behind the parsonage, with only a narrow alley and postage stamp parking lot to separate us. This means that everyone who needs a key or wants to discuss whether to use organic or chemical fertilizer on the church lawn finds their way to our door. On the other hand, Ed can be at work in a minute, and if I need him, I don’t have to wait.
Tonight I was delighted to live so close, both to the church and the Oval. We were able to leave at the last minute, filing quietly out the door and walking to the park in silence. Teddy slipped her hand in mine, and even Deena stayed close to me. The Oval is roughly a tree-studded acre of grass with a bandstand in the middle. The bandstand is embellished with gingerbread trim that tonight sported beribboned pine swags and twinkling white lights woven through the lattice work.
Browning Kefauver, the town’s unfortunate choice for mayor, sat in one of the six chairs that had been set up in the bandstand for the gathering, along with some of the town’s most prominent ministers. Brownie is a nondescript little man with protruding ears, no backbone, and few principles. I know things about Brownie that would curl the straightest hair. Let’s just say letting Brownie preside over a nativity pageant is like letting the CEO of Exxon preside over a Greenpeace rally.
Maybe it’s that pesky church and state split, or maybe just that Brownie does know how to quit while he’s ahead, but once the festivities began, he was only a figurehead. The ministers took over the event. There were to be no prayers or readings here, but someone has judged that singing carols is legal as long as a few secular songs are sung as well. I can imagine the session that led to making specific choices. Yes to “Good King Wenceslas,” because it’s a history lesson about helping the poor. Yes to Longfellow’s “I Heard the Bells” because it’s a nondenominational story of hope vs. despair. Still, count me among those who are pleased and relieved we’re trying to respect all the citizens and religions of Emerald Springs.
The Lutheran choir was in front of the bandstand, all thirty of them in white robes with red stoles over heavy winter gear. Men and women with red and green armbands walked through the crowd distributing lyrics to almost a dozen carols. A quintet of shivering high school students began to play. Their counterparts would be waiting at the nativity.
I scanned the crowd for Ed, but he wasn’t sitting in the bandstand. I thought he was probably gathering our
7
Our girls have never known a Christmas Eve without a candlelight service, so as darkness approached they got ready without prompting. Junie was excited about the pageant, even though she has temporarily settled on interplanetary colonization as an answer to life’s biggest questions. Junie’s personal theology is like a river that rushes downstream, gathering and encompassing everything in its path. Sometimes the waters move too swiftly.
Vel and Sid had volunteered to come to the service, too. Sid may have spent last night punching her pillow, but now she looked as if she was determined to get over Bix Minard. At least she doesn’t have to ask herself what she did wrong. She was that far ahead in the recovery game.
Vel finally dragged herself away from the stove. For our dinner Junie had made honey wheat bread and vegetable soup that would simmer in the slow cooker until we returned from church. Ginger and Cliff weren’t coming to the service, but they would meet us at 7:00 for one final family love feast.
There are disadvantages to living where we do. The church is beside and behind the parsonage, with only a narrow alley and postage stamp parking lot to separate us. This means that everyone who needs a key or wants to discuss whether to use organic or chemical fertilizer on the church lawn finds their way to our door. On the other hand, Ed can be at work in a minute, and if I need him, I don’t have to wait.
Tonight I was delighted to live so close, both to the church and the Oval. We were able to leave at the last minute, filing quietly out the door and walking to the park in silence. Teddy slipped her hand in mine, and even Deena stayed close to me. The Oval is roughly a tree-studded acre of grass with a bandstand in the middle. The bandstand is embellished with gingerbread trim that tonight sported beribboned pine swags and twinkling white lights woven through the lattice work.
Browning Kefauver, the town’s unfortunate choice for mayor, sat in one of the six chairs that had been set up in the bandstand for the gathering, along with some of the town’s most prominent ministers. Brownie is a nondescript little man with protruding ears, no backbone, and few principles. I know things about Brownie that would curl the straightest hair. Let’s just say letting Brownie preside over a nativity pageant is like letting the CEO of Exxon preside over a Greenpeace rally.
Maybe it’s that pesky church and state split, or maybe just that Brownie does know how to quit while he’s ahead, but once the festivities began, he was only a figurehead. The ministers took over the event. There were to be no prayers or readings here, but someone has judged that singing carols is legal as long as a few secular songs are sung as well. I can imagine the session that led to making specific choices. Yes to “Good King Wenceslas,” because it’s a history lesson about helping the poor. Yes to Longfellow’s “I Heard the Bells” because it’s a nondenominational story of hope vs. despair. Still, count me among those who are pleased and relieved we’re trying to respect all the citizens and religions of Emerald Springs.
The Lutheran choir was in front of the bandstand, all thirty of them in white robes with red stoles over heavy winter gear. Men and women with red and green armbands walked through the crowd distributing lyrics to almost a dozen carols. A quintet of shivering high school students began to play. Their counterparts would be waiting at the nativity.
I scanned the crowd for Ed, but he wasn’t sitting in the bandstand. I thought he was probably gathering our
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