It was our church's nativity service this morning. I am always amazed by it. Amazed that it comes together so well with such a dearth of rehearsal. Amazed I learn something new though I've heard it a hundred times before. Amazed that it somehow moves me though, to be honest, it's a bit of a riot, our nativity service! This morning was no exception: A grumpy King beacuse he'd not been allowed to bring his PSP to church; a small shepherd definitely not wanting to give his toy lamb to Jesus (aka his sister); a scary moment when the stable was revealed and it looked like we might not have either a Mary or a Joseph (I hear that in some churches kids will kill for these roles) and a slightly wobbly home made time machine whose buttons kept falling off. Complete with Dr Who music, a fake Jesus (as well as an alive one - female as it happens) and a visitor who ended up playign in the band our nativity was nothing short of miraculous.And of course the joy of using a real baby as Jesus (even if she's a bit beyond the 'meek and mild' stage and spent a lot of the time eating her tinsel halo) is that the whole cast of the nativity naturally gravitate towards them. Preening and poking, cooing and clucking. The little ones just as interested (if not more so) as the big ones. As the Johnny-come-lately Mary I was nearly suffocated as kings, shepherds, elves, a camel and Dr What crowded in to catch her eye, play peek a boo and generally do what everyone in that stable long ago would have done. The poor narrator could hardly tear them away back into the Time Machine back to present day Hackney. And in the midst of it all, me, looking ridiculous in a 50 year old Mary outfit, trying to hide the tears pricking my eyes! Maybe there'll be some pics later...
lovely
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