From childhood there are multiple memories that revolve around the holidays. We travel to Grandma's house, smell the aromas of favorite family dishes, play with cousins, and exchange gifts.
The traditions of Christmas seem to be most magical in our childhood when it literally felt like forever for the holidays to arrive.
Recently playing the role of Nanny O at Centenary Methodist Church brought back yet another Christmas contagion of memories: Those Christmas plays from old.
Much like being selected to carry the flag down the aisle at the opening of Bible school, getting to be in a church play or choir as a child was magical. Watching the littles practice for The One and Only Original Christmas Factory brought back a flood of memories long tucked away in my mind. It was in these moments the elderly ladies in the church would correct our posture when leaning lazily upon the alter. I can still see Ms. B's sweet face and hear Ms. Moore's voice reminding us not to lean on what was sacred.
The ornaments made from styrofoam and ribbon hanging from our sanctuary tree were hand made by us as well. We would drape ourselves in handsewn robes, gather beneath this tree and sing our little hearts out with pride at getting to partake in the holiday season. I remember the ladies directing us with patience. They would mouth the words to us in case we forgot and wave their hands to the rhythm we worked to follow. And after multiple practices the morning came, the songs were sung, and the day moved past.
The play recently put on by the Methodist children was about Nanny O trying to explain to the children and their teacher, Mr. Hathaway, the meaning behind the symbols of Christmas. Some children dressed up as snowflakes, others a star or evergreen tree. Each song brought about the understanding of how that one icon symbolized the birth of Christ. I watched Patri work tirelessly with the little ones just like her mother had when we were growing up. And I listened to her correct the children about leaning lazily on the alter, which was sacred.
Memories came bubbling up of one song after another, standing beneath that tree and singing over the years. One manger scene after another we reenacted. One short Christmas skit or scripture recited. We would poke each other and laugh by each other's sides not in the least bit nervous about standing up in front of the congregation as one bunch of unified kids who were biting their bottom lips to break free and run around in the grass outside once practice was over.
There is a bit of luster lost at Christmas time once adulthood sweeps away the last traces of childhood. We become lost checking things off the list, and just like Nanny O said, "We get too busy to stop and think about the true meaning of Christmas." It started with a child born unto us, so what better way to celebrate our Savior than by letting the little children remind us of the truest gift to mankind.
I was so proud of these young darlings who are yet another generation of blessings spilling out from those walls. And I was far more nervous than when I was a child standing up and singing in front of the congregation. The memories made for these children will be the lasting gift they will take away as I was reminded of those magical Christmas moments celebrating Christ in one unified voice as a little girl.
