I had saved Trinity Episcopal for last, figuring if I had any energy left I could attend the ten o’clock service. But by the time I got there, my energy was nearly gone.

Trinity was hopping. The classrooms were filled with Episcopal and Baptist Sunday school classes. Father Donnelly was galloping through a briskly paced Catholic mass in the sanctuary, no doubt confusing a few Episcopalians who hadn’t gotten the word that the usual nine o’clock service had been pushed back to ten. The vestibule was filled with Episcopalians waiting patiently for their service to begin, and not seeming to mind the wait much, because they all had so much news and gossip to catch up on.

I ran into Mother, resplendent in a new red-and-gold hat.

“Meg! Would you like to sit with me and the ladies?”

“Another time,” I said. “I’ve been up since before dawn working on the schedule, and my arm is bothering me.” I realized as I said it that this wasn’t a white lie. My arm was starting to ache slightly.

“We’ll tell you all about it later,” one of the ladies said. “When we come out for the sewing bee.”

“And Michael and the boys can sit with us,” Mother said.

The boys looked very fine in their little suits, including special red and green plaid ties in honor of the season. I shuddered, briefly, imagining how hard it had been for Michael to achieve their sartorial splendor, and made sure both they and Michael knew how impressed I was.

“We’re staying afterward for the rehearsal,” Michael said.

“‘Rehearsal’? Oh, for the Christmas pageant.” Trinity always had what we called a Christmas pageant. It was actually a lot like the live Nativity that the Methodists had on their front lawn on Christmas Eve. But since we held it in the sanctuary, children in costume acted the parts of the animals, along with Mary, Joseph, the wise men, the shepherds, and the angels.

The part of baby Jesus was normally played by a startlingly lifelike doll. The year the boys were born the well-meaning volunteer in charge of the pageant decided it would be adorable to have a real baby play the part. She recruited Josh and Jamie, on the rather unsound theory that they wouldn’t both be cranky and crying at showtime. In her defense, it had been at least twenty years since her own children were infants, and she was the first to admit that we should bring back the doll after the first rehearsal, when Jamie projectile vomited on Melchior and a couple of helpless sheep.