A passage from Luke 2:10-11: “And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.”
It was half an hour to curtains at our church Christmas play. I was quickly rushing from the fellowship hall to the church to grab one last thing. As I did, out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of a black gentleman, one of our deacons, using a blower to clear some debris off of the walkway between the two buildings. I had meant to do that but simply got busy with a million other things and did not have enough time. And so this deacon, genuinely one of the finest men I have ever known, without even being asked, saw the need and took care of it.
Our drama for the year was “A Hillbilly Christmas Carol,” one that I wrote 23 years ago and then rewrote for this year. It follows the life and conversion of the great-nephew of Ebenezer Scrooge, Ebubbanezer Scrooge, who settled down here in America in the mountains of Tennessee.
I, the half Puerto Rican, quarter Lebanese, quarter French guy, played the lead role, mostly because no one else had the time to memorize quite that many lines, and no one else really wanted to be karate-flipped by the spirit of Christmas past.
Our narrator was white. She is also a she. Yet choosing her as the narrator was the easiest choice imaginable. She is animated and phenomenal in any role, and in this case, pulled off Charlene Dickens, the hillbilly granddaughter of Charles Dickens, with ease. Seated beside her, on the keyboard, was our Hawaiian classical pianist, who provided the musical scores between scenes. His son was the loudest singer in our hillbilly youth choir. Their task was to sing “Joy to the World” as horribly as possible (before finally getting it perfect at the end of the play) and he absolutely crushed it. Had people holding their ears while laughing and shaking their heads.