The Barn
One of my favorite Christmas traditions is the annual trek to the barn.
It all started because of the Joy in the Morning costumes. Joy in the Morning was a musical presented by the First Baptist Church adult choir one Easter. Actually, it ran for more than one Easter season. It is interesting to note that both Jennie and I have an uncanny ability to remember all things musical produced by FBC. Even when we weren't in the musicals. This brings to mind several other stories that will surely surface someday.
As I recall, Joy in the Morning required the adults to wear costumes and makeup. I remember thinking that this was the most wonderful and progressive thing a church service anywhere could ever muster. I suppose the choir was able to rock the boat in such a dramatic way manner in that time and place because it was "biblical times." Funny things I remember include everyone in their bathrobes or muslin robes with sashes, makeup, and myopic confusion, as eyeglasses were frowned upon b/c they didn't really exist in biblical times....the only exceptions were made for the severely visually impaired. Palm leaves. There were lots of those, too. Even the piano was moved to make space for the production.
It was a fine time, indeed, for the Baptists on 6th and Main.
But, the Easter pageant isn't the focus of this McClain story, dears.
Never one to want things to go to waste (it's the my-dad's-family-survived-America's-Great-Depression mentality hardwired within), I hatched a plan, come Christmas-time. Within the inner circle of McClains, we were seven-strong. We had access to lots of Joy in the Morning costumes, a barn, lowing cattle, a couple of dogs and a cat (and probably some field mice), and a Jesus and an understudy (Jennie's and my newborn baby dolls...girl dolls for what it's worth, but with some swaddling clothes, who's counting?). What, then, could have been more compelling than our own re-enactment of the Christmas Story?
I don't remember the proposed cast latching on to the idea. To say that my Christmas Pageant was a hard sell is an understatement.
I do remember Dad humoring me enough to walk out to the barn and clear a stage for the production.
I don't think we (I, actually) got much further than a draft of the script.
Which I still have and intend to frame the next time JoAnn runs a 50% off framing coupon in the Sunday paper.
I don't remember really how my plan fell apart.
A compromise emerged. We'd all hike up to the barn...for the experience and the ambience...to hear the account of the birth of Jesus.
So, on Christmas Eve, we all bundled up in warm things and walked to the barn. We nestled into the haybales while Dad read the story by flashlight. O Captain, we heard the story from a new and fresh perspective that evening. Everyone moved in very close together (due to the cold primarily, but I like to think that we all felt it...the magic of the moment, and that we didn't want to let go of it)....including the cows. Although, frankly, I think they were just so confused as to why so many people were huddled together in the barn in the dark on such a cold evening. Plus, they probably thought they'd get lucky with a few range cubes if they feigned hunger. We even sang a carol or two. Though it clearly wasn't as vivid as if we had been wearing bathrobes and turbans, I thought I was able to imagine what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph so many years ago. I remember looking out at the stars in the sparkling sky and thinking that Jesus would surely have approved.
Since that time (sometime in the 80s?), we have never missed a Christmas in the barn. The cast changes each year. One year the Smythes joined us and Miss Katy fell off of the top of a stack of about 5 bales high. After we all realized that she was not dead or seriously injured, we all laughed heartily and complimented her on her acrobatic skills. Some years there are cows and dogs and other animals. Some years there was hay stacked, some years, just a trailer sprinkled with hay (after Miss Katy's fall, we didn't want to take our chances). Some years we walk, some we drive. We always have to warm up afterwards with hot chocolate and a round or two of music around the piano. And gifts! Which we open on Christmas Eve because we have to share our time together with our in-laws.
Always, always, there is the walk to the barn on Christmas Eve.
It's hardly the via Dolorosa, but it is a cold, breathless walk, together, with purpose.
Every last Rockwell-ian drop of the moment is lovingly ridiculed.
And savored.
More than you can imagine.
It all started because of the Joy in the Morning costumes. Joy in the Morning was a musical presented by the First Baptist Church adult choir one Easter. Actually, it ran for more than one Easter season. It is interesting to note that both Jennie and I have an uncanny ability to remember all things musical produced by FBC. Even when we weren't in the musicals. This brings to mind several other stories that will surely surface someday.
As I recall, Joy in the Morning required the adults to wear costumes and makeup. I remember thinking that this was the most wonderful and progressive thing a church service anywhere could ever muster. I suppose the choir was able to rock the boat in such a dramatic way manner in that time and place because it was "biblical times." Funny things I remember include everyone in their bathrobes or muslin robes with sashes, makeup, and myopic confusion, as eyeglasses were frowned upon b/c they didn't really exist in biblical times....the only exceptions were made for the severely visually impaired. Palm leaves. There were lots of those, too. Even the piano was moved to make space for the production.
It was a fine time, indeed, for the Baptists on 6th and Main.
But, the Easter pageant isn't the focus of this McClain story, dears.
Never one to want things to go to waste (it's the my-dad's-family-survived-America's-Great-Depression mentality hardwired within), I hatched a plan, come Christmas-time. Within the inner circle of McClains, we were seven-strong. We had access to lots of Joy in the Morning costumes, a barn, lowing cattle, a couple of dogs and a cat (and probably some field mice), and a Jesus and an understudy (Jennie's and my newborn baby dolls...girl dolls for what it's worth, but with some swaddling clothes, who's counting?). What, then, could have been more compelling than our own re-enactment of the Christmas Story?
I don't remember the proposed cast latching on to the idea. To say that my Christmas Pageant was a hard sell is an understatement.
I do remember Dad humoring me enough to walk out to the barn and clear a stage for the production.
I don't think we (I, actually) got much further than a draft of the script.
Which I still have and intend to frame the next time JoAnn runs a 50% off framing coupon in the Sunday paper.
I don't remember really how my plan fell apart.
A compromise emerged. We'd all hike up to the barn...for the experience and the ambience...to hear the account of the birth of Jesus.
So, on Christmas Eve, we all bundled up in warm things and walked to the barn. We nestled into the haybales while Dad read the story by flashlight. O Captain, we heard the story from a new and fresh perspective that evening. Everyone moved in very close together (due to the cold primarily, but I like to think that we all felt it...the magic of the moment, and that we didn't want to let go of it)....including the cows. Although, frankly, I think they were just so confused as to why so many people were huddled together in the barn in the dark on such a cold evening. Plus, they probably thought they'd get lucky with a few range cubes if they feigned hunger. We even sang a carol or two. Though it clearly wasn't as vivid as if we had been wearing bathrobes and turbans, I thought I was able to imagine what it must have been like for Mary and Joseph so many years ago. I remember looking out at the stars in the sparkling sky and thinking that Jesus would surely have approved.
Since that time (sometime in the 80s?), we have never missed a Christmas in the barn. The cast changes each year. One year the Smythes joined us and Miss Katy fell off of the top of a stack of about 5 bales high. After we all realized that she was not dead or seriously injured, we all laughed heartily and complimented her on her acrobatic skills. Some years there are cows and dogs and other animals. Some years there was hay stacked, some years, just a trailer sprinkled with hay (after Miss Katy's fall, we didn't want to take our chances). Some years we walk, some we drive. We always have to warm up afterwards with hot chocolate and a round or two of music around the piano. And gifts! Which we open on Christmas Eve because we have to share our time together with our in-laws.
Always, always, there is the walk to the barn on Christmas Eve.
It's hardly the via Dolorosa, but it is a cold, breathless walk, together, with purpose.
Every last Rockwell-ian drop of the moment is lovingly ridiculed.
And savored.
More than you can imagine.
posted by juliebelle | 10:01 AM
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6 comments
