Forest of the Plains

I have never been a fan of our church’s Christmas Eve service. Partly I miss the traditional Lessons and Carols type service that I grew up with. Partly it’s just the lack of tradition.

Every year it’s another different program that is organized by yet another person. Generally there’s a lengthy script and lots of silence while kids pass a microphone down to the next speaker. One year the program was executed wonderfully, but the focus on the plights of outcasts around the world was downright depressing. (I overheard one person say, “That program reminded me that I need to take my Prozac tonight.”)

My feelings about the service are no secret. Once Advent starts, I start recounting all the bad memories of the past. Even cute children and the Spirit of the Season can’t erase those memories.

Once Jacob was born I was asked if he’d be allowed to be in the program. Of course he can. I’ll just sit in the back row and roll my eyes quietly.

Except this week I got an email. Someone on Education Committee had the great idea the the church’s Mom’s Group could coordinate this year’s Christmas Eve Service. “The plan is already in place. They wanted to keep it short and simple. Ending with candlelight. Singing lots of carols and having the children involved. No long lines or new songs for the kids to learn.”

And that is how I find myself on a four-mom committee to organize Christmas Eve.

I know. I can hardly believe it myself.