People who now know me as a kind-hearted heathen might be surprised to hear I had extensive religious training in a rural clapboard church with peeling paint…at least until my best friend Carol Fujan talked me into playing hooky from Sunday services.
However, even Carol and I knew that as the season neared, Santa was watching, and it behooved us to keep our butts stuck to the pews throughout the sermon and, of course, to volunteer to be in the Christmas Eve church program.
When the annual insanity of the holiday season peaks, I like to travel back to that kinder, gentler time, to the Christmas pageant put on by our Methodist church in O Little Town of Carleton, Nebraska where I grew up.
Wanda Tegmeier, a lovely rotund woman who magically produced one baby boy every year, spearheaded the event.
Her oldest, Dick, was 8, and she cast him as Joseph. I was desperate to be the Virgin Mary, but one look at me, and anyone could see I was much naughtier than nice. However, my friend Carol, despite her sneaking-out-of-church ways, had the perfect holy face, and she got the part. So I ended up as one of the kids who recited a piece of the Christmas story.
Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, and the wise men were off stage in the Sunday school room when the program began. The rest of us kids lined up in the back of the church with the choir. Wanda gave each of us a lit candle to carry. Thinking back, it doesn’t make sense that little kids would be allowed to transport open flames in an old wooden building, but those were more innocent times.
We marched to the front, singing “Come All Ye Faithful.” The choir took their seats. We placed our lit candles in the holders, dripping wax and narrowly avoiding setting the altar afire. A row of child-sized chairs waited for us to nervously sit until it was time to say our lines.
Rodney Smith took the lead and announced the census by Caesar Augustus. I had a crush on Rod. He looked like a 6-year-old George Clooney with a flat top.
Then Rosalee Penner, 14, beautiful and with a voice like an angel, sang “Silent Night.” The girl knew how to set a mood.
Next came Ricky Widler. He had red hair, freckles, and dripped with mischief. He’d threatened to moon the congregation, and I hoped he would drop his trousers, but he played it straight, introducing Mary and Joseph, who waltzed on stage, looking pure and holy. And so cued, the choir rose to sing “O Little Town of Bethlehem.” I thought it was the most beautiful carol in the whole world.
Bobbie, another one of the Tegmeier boys, stood to announce the arrival of the Baby Jesus. He took his infant brother from his mother Wanda and handed him to Mary who placed him in a cradle, and we little ones gathered around to sing a grotesquely off-tune version of “Away in the Manger.”
And on the pageant went. Doug Smith introduced the shepherds, and they trooped in wearing sheets belted with rope. You could see the cuffs of their dress pants and dark shoes, but they were still able to watch their flocks with stunning authenticity.
The choir sang “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear.” Janet Penner delivered the line about “glad tidings of great joy,” and the congregation rose to sing “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” which made me think of another Harold, the nerdy son of our school bus driver.
Then it was my turn to say my piece and cue the wise men, my brother John, Bob Stofer and LeRoy Disney, all wearing striped bathrobes. They sang “We Three Kings.”
We all marched off stage singing “Joy to the World.”
Once we kids were seated in the pews, the choir sang “Up on the Rooftop.”
Good old Santa Claus appeared from the Sunday school room. It was my grandpa, and I knew because my grandma had mentioned about a hundred times how the only way she could get the old coot to church was to put him in a Santa suit.
Grandpa gave candy canes to all the little kiddies, and we went home to pick one present to open on Christmas Eve. Even if it was underwear, it didn’t matter, because the real Santa had not yet arrived, and our hearts were still full of hope and wonder.
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