When Angels Sing
Yesterday I attended my daughter’s recital at her preschool. After everyone was seated, the music teacher introduced the different classes and directed each group to their assigned places in the chapel. The program consisted of several songs the children had to sing and play with simple instruments. Photographs were prohibited until the end of the show to avoid distracting the little performers.
The first to line up were the animals, including Morgan who was dressed as a donkey. Following, entered Joseph and Mary, who—terror written on their little faces at the thought of being the main characters—took their places by the manger and stood facing the crowd while fighting the urge to pick at their costumes.
As the narration of the Nativity continued, and the songs were sung, there wasn’t a somber face in the room. There is something very special about a group of little children coming together and singing. While I am sure that teachers stressed the point of remaining composed during the performance, I was amused to see a fair share of tiny hands being raised to greet parents in the crowd. When Morgan saw us, she could barely contain herself—her face was so radiant and proud that it could have lit up a dark room.
One little boy teased his head dress enough that it ended up drooping on the side of his face; another had his sign language backwards, and the sweet voices of the pea-sized cast squeaked when they hit high notes; but in the end, all those little mistakes are exactly what made the show unforgettable.
We are conditioned to believe that only perfection can lead to satisfaction, but nothing could be further from the truth. As we watched these tiny beings sparkle in their own magnificence, we were all wrapped in a delightful state of awe, and our souls truly heard angels sing.
We all gave up on seeing a perfect show, and allowed the wave of improvisation to gently sweep us away to a world of heartwarming delight. By the time the performance came to an end, Christmas was definitely in the air.