Our church is hosting a Hanging of the Green service for the community tonight (6 p.m. at First Baptist H’ville, if you live in the area). Preparing for it reminded me of Christmas programs past—the ones with homemade angel wings and bathrobes for shepherds’ costumes.
I think one of my favorites was an interdenominational celebration—our church and the Methodists down the road—back in the seventies. It was held in front of the town clinic, which is now the police department. We had a live Nativity scene—real animals and everything. We didn't have the budget to rent a camel, but I think we had a cow and a donkey. Or maybe it was a goat and a donkey. In any case, we had livestock.
The combined choirs sang from a flatbed truck. I was the pianist, playing an old upright that the men had loaded into the back of Uncle Chick’s pickup. When we weren’t “ministering in song,” I had to wear gloves because it was freezing cold. People from all over the community turned out for it, huddling together in the cold night air to celebrate Christmas with us.
That’s really what I remember most about that service—the sense of community, of celebrating the birth of Christ with people who had deep roots in this place and strong ties to each other.
When Missing Isaac first came out, one of the more critical reviews came from a reader who didn’t think the people were realistic—nobody’s that loving, forgiving, caring, etc. That stung at first, but then I kind of felt sorry for her. I grew up with people who are that loving, that forgiving, that caring. And I’m especially thankful for them this morning. (I’m also thankful that I won’t have to wear garland-lined, poster board angel wings tonight.)
With a little help from the Canadian Tenors, Happy December!
[Illustration by Stuart Miles @ Freerangestock.com]
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