I have a confession to make.  I dread Christmas time.  I am a pastor's wife and my husband pastors a little rural church in Indiana.  That means that the Christmas program and trimming the church and the trees gravitates towards me.  It's not that I like doing that kind of thing all that much, but I am the church pianist and for some reason that makes me qualified.

    Now, don't get me wrong.  I know I'm not suffering for Jesus in the way that so many of overseas missionaries and my brothers and sisters living in socieites that are unfriendly toward Christians do.  I mean, spending two days decorating three Christmas trees (one for the foyer, one for the fellowship hall, one for the nursery) is nothing compared to living in a hut in Africa translating a bible into a new language.

    My head knows this -- so why do I complain and dread the mess and chaos that is supposed to be Christmas?

    Add to that the knowledge that December is not really Jesus' birthday anyway  and it all just seems so silly to me.

    But miraculously, in the midst of it all, foot dragger that I am, something happens.  In the middle of ironing angel costumes and making little lamb ears out of cotton balls, this old scrooge gets bitten by the Happy Birthday Jesus bug.  Suddenly I can feel the joy the shepherd must have felt when they saw that little Baby Messiah for the first time. 

    When I see innocent little hands pulling their halos apart and carressing the baby Jesus in the manger during the Christmas pagaent, I can't help but feel just a little giddy.  Even when the angels lie down on the stage, spread eagle, during "Joy to the World," I can't get upset. 

    It's Christmas!  It doesn't matter that everyone doesn't hit their masking tape mark right on, or that the angels flap their wings energeticlly during "Silent Night."  What matters are those eager little eyes looking longlingly at the beautiful Mary and Joseph and the baby chosen to play baby Jesus.  Those are the people I want to reach during this crazy holiday time.  Those young people will grow up and then tell their own children in Christmas pageants about a little baby Who came to earth to be die for us all.

    My granddaughter, Trinity Grace, will be playing the Baby Jesus this year in the pageant.  It will be quite a Christmas: me, my four sons, my daughter-in-law and my granddaughter are all in the play together.  Does life get any better than that?  I don't think so!
   
    The best part of the program is when they wheel out the cake for Jesus and we sing at the top of our lungs, "Happy Birthday to You!"  That's what it's all about.  It's all about HIM, it's not about me at all!  Sure, I'm exhausted, I'm overworked, I'm frustrated and irritated by all the extra responsibilities this season brings.  But it's worth it, and all the stress just melts and slides away in those moments when I remember that Christmas begins with Christ.