Christmas time at the Baptist Church, at six years old I had to work to learn my solo hymn for the Christmas show.
“Away in a manger, no crib for a bed” were words I’d drilled deep in my head but what came out that night I still don’t know.
‘Though I practiced hard to learn that tune and words, the stage fright made it all just lights and blurs.
As I ran off to find my pew, deep in my heart I really knew, a show biz job was one I’d never do.
Little kids, most scared to death, would mount the stage and lose their breath and stand like deer in headlights on the road.
When mother’s prompting did not work, they stared and stammered, some with quirks, then ran for safety in a panic mode.
But some cool kids stood there serene and calm, and spoke their “piece” without a hitch or qualm.
Their folks were filled with joy and pride, while I looked for a place to hide. That Christmas show was stress I can’t abide.
When I think of a Christmas show, I think of all those kids that know they’re probably going to blow their Christmas “saying”.
It doesn't matter what they do, rehearse and practice, do voodoo, their cool & calm and memory’s just not staying.
They take the stage all brave but all alone, and most will wish that they had just stayed home.
And they’ll look back through all the years of loves and laughs and smiles and tears and think of standing, frozen like a stone.
So now when Christmas comes around, I see the joyful sights and sounds and think of that cold night in that old church.
The clearest memory I recall was standing like beneath a pall as mind and body left me in the lurch.
Now I buy gifts and gild the tree and be the dad I’m meant to be but stay away from hymns and bible verse.
‘Cause in my mind I’m still that boy and that night’s end sure brought me joy as I got through the children’s Christmas curse.
