A Star is Born

Our church Christmas Pageant was on Sunday. I was the stage manager, and we have been rehearsing every Wednesday since November 1st. This was the first year Gwen has actually managed to be in the play (when she was three, she didn't get it -- thought we were playing a creative game, kept trying to steer the plot in a different direction; last year she was supposed to be in the angel choir, but got sick at the last minute), and it was supposed to be Xavier's first year as well ... but more on that later.

I have to admit, I was a tad concerned about the play this year. The kids, though good-hearted, were a little distractable at times (but, hey! What do I expect? They're kids!) and I think we are going through one of those cyclical transition times where most of the kids who participated last year are now too old (fifth grade is the cutoff, although we snuck a couple of sixth graders in to fill the roster), and most of the remaining kids are not yet at an age where they can read. Still, we worked hard, had ambitious rehearsals, and I worked with one boy to try to get the props and costumes ready to go (Daniel, I know stagehand is a thankless job and you probably don't read this BLOG anyway, but you were a big help.)

The big day arrived. Gwen had had a cold all week and was blowing her nose constantly, so I was just waiting for her to get a fever (she didn't, but if she had, I would have had to give her Tylenol and sent her out, because she had a speaking part and Daniel -- understudy as well as stagehand -- would have been awkward in a female role.) We arrived an hour and a half early to help get things set up (angels in their costumes, etc., props downstairs.) Xavier -- who had originally been a shepherd, but was now in the angel choir -- decided he wanted to help me, so I let him carry down a turban and a pink tunic that the main character (Leon) was supposed to wear in succession during a rapid costume change scene.

Of course, since we told the kids to all be there at least an hour early and we could not have them wandering around the sanctuary, we ended up dragging them into the choir room to do a few last minute checks on the songs. Xavier soon lost interest and started flirting with the piano player. I glanced over at Gwen and saw she was really pale. I went over to her and asked, "Honey, are you all right?"

"I don't think I'm going to do a very good job in the play, Mom," she whispered.

"You'll do great!" I assured her.

Soon it was time for the kids to line up to go into the sanctuary. After I got them lined up and started them down the aisle, I raced around back stage to get ready to cue anyone who needed help with their lines. As Daniel and I did a last minute check on the props, I suddenly realized something was missing ... that pink tunic and the turban! And I needed them after the second song! Where could they be?

Then I remembered ... Xavier had brought them into the sanctuary; they were probably still sitting on the pew where he left them, and Lord only knew where that was. Groan ...

Well, the first song was ending, so we weren't likely to get a chance to go running through the audience looking for the tunic and the turban. So, I came up with Plan B: use a tunic he would be wearing later as a turban, and instead of the pink tunic, have him wear one of the angel halos (he was supposed to be trying out for the part of an angel in a Christmas pageant, so this would work.)

With a sigh of relief, I peered back as the kids were singing the last verse of the first song, and I realized something else was missing ... Xavier! Now, I could leave a pink tunic in the audience, but a four-year-old boy running loose was something else. This time, I did chance peering out ... Whew! Adam was sitting next to the aisle near the front, with a lapful of squirming Xavier (Adam told me later that Xavier left the line as the kids had filed up the aisle and told him, "Mom said I should sit with you.")

First scene done, second song done, now "Leon" is going through his quick costume change sequence. As he headed out with the halo on instead of the pink tunic, and I saw Gwen watch him approach with her mouth wide in a surprised smile, and I suddenly remembered: Gwen's cue is when Leon walks on stage in the pink tunic, and now there was no pink tunic! What would she do?

She hesitated for only a second, then cried, "Leon, what are you doing here? This is the Angel Tryouts!" She made her cue -- as she made all her cues for the rest of the play -- and the rest, as they say, is history.

We are extremely proud of Gwen -- she was the youngest child with a speaking part, and while it was a small part, she did it with gusto and vim. She memorized her lines (she had to -- she can't read that well), and she spoke loudly (necessary, because we didn't have enough microphones for all the kids.) She didn't always -- or often -- get the choreography right, but, hey, she can't help it -- she is related to me.

Still, we had to temper our parental pride, because she was EXTREMELY proud of herself as well. When she announced during our Monday morning phone call, "I can't wait to tell my kindergarten teacher that I was the best star in the whole play!" we had to have a little chat about humility.

But, Lord, it's hard to be humble when you're perfect -- or almost perfect -- in every way. Or, if not perfect, at least when you're five years old.