Fragments From Floyd

This story appeared in the Floyd Press, Dec. 23, 2004 and was broadcast on WVTF, Roanoke, last Christmas. I wanted to share it again with you, Fragments readers, and wish you the most blessed Christmas ever!

Long ago we lived next to a country church in another southwest Virginia county. During summer preaching, the open doors of the church let in the cool breezes. They also let in our black dog Zach who would often wander up the hill and find us in our pew. Just behind the pulpit through the open back door you could see cows grazing nearby against the backdrop of Walker Mountain twenty miles away through the blue haze.

We have many wonderful memories of that church and of the families there who became our friends. But perhaps the most indelible memory from that little brick church is the year a small miracle happened at Christmas. This is that story.

"The Herdmans were absolutely the worst kids in the history of the world. They lied and stole and smoked cigars and used the Lord's name in vain. They hit little kids and cussed their teachers and set fire to Fred Shoemaker's old broken down tool house."

These are the opening lines of the play "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever." The year our daughter turned twelve, she was the narrator for the community performance, so the script sticks in memory from her endless recitations. And the year after she performed, we moved to the country, and to our dismay, we would be living down the hill from that community's Herdman kids.

Our little farm bordered the cemetery of a tiny church on the hill behind us. There on a good Sunday, forty souls dotted the sanctuary-all of them from five families that had lived in that farming community and gone to that little brick church for generations. My wife and the kids and I were the rare new members. Warmly welcomed, we quickly became comfortable there.

Across the gravel road from the church the shell of a one room school house decayed on the crest of the hill. Socks and overalls hung now from clotheslines strung from its corners. Chickens found shade underneath during the days and spent the nights perched in pine trees that grew where the school's playground had last heard the laughter of children long ago. Rusting appliances framing the front door testified to human apathy and neglect.

In the ramshackle school house, a man and woman lived sad lives, and yet, the county had placed little Mary and Silas in the home to live with their aunt and uncle. The children seemed to them nothing more than a source of income. Mostly, the money for their support quenched their Uncle Johnny's thirst for liquor. The brother and sister lived an unruly and impoverished life, deprived of more than groceries or new shoes.

It came time for the annual children's Christmas Drama. The nice thing, my wife said, would be to ask Mary and Silas to come and take part. Furtive and distrustful, like wild creatures, everybody knew what they would do. Like the unholy Herdman kids they would come into church and grab fistfuls of cookies and cake. They'd stuff as much as they could get into their mouths and pockets, and then run off. Even though we knew they would not behave and would never participate, the caring thing would be to ask them, especially now when the other children in the community were so excited and full of anticipation.

It seemed a miracle. When asked, they came and they joined in. Mary was even chosen to play the starring role. She sat silently beside the manger, holding the Baby Jesus doll in her arms, lost in her own thoughts. Silas was a rumpled shepherd who appeared in my bathrobe, a towel wrapped around his head and a broomstick for a staff. He marched trimphantly up the center aisle toward the manger, his sister and the baby. In his eyes that night for the first time, we saw joy and hope.

On that cold December night, two small outcasts were welcomed in. They played parts in a story far greater than the sad script of their own bleak lives: a story of wonder and expectation and the promise of unconditional love.

Of all the little towns of Bethlehem that I've ever seen, that was the best Christmas Pageant Ever.