This year, Robyn had recruited Michael to read the Christmas story as the children acted it out, while the choir would lead the congregation in a few musical selections, like “While Shepherds Watched Their Flocks By Night” when all the sheep milled on stage and “We Three Kings” when the wise men made their entrance. I was looking forward to the performance, but I hadn’t realized Michael had signed the boys up to participate. Though I was glad to hear that in spite of their previous attempt to turn the Christmas story into The Exorcist the boys were still welcome back.

“That’s good,” I said. “What are the boys—sheep?” Most of the smaller children ended up as sheep.

“They’re going to wear their Halloween costumes,” Michael said.

“But they were dinosaurs for Halloween,” I pointed out. “I don’t think there were a lot of dinosaurs in Bethlehem in biblical times.”

“Picky, picky,” Michael said. “Robyn’s got a more expansive approach to the pageant. Wait till you see it.”

I felt a brief twinge of guilt at weaseling out of the service, but my eyelids were drooping more and more. And if Michael and the boys were attending not only the service but also the rehearsal, I might have time for a proper nap.

With visions of soft pillows and our down comforter dancing through my head, I headed for the exit. Unfortunately I got caught up in the human traffic jam in the vestibule, as several hundred Catholics tried to leave the sanctuary at the same time that a similar number of Episcopalians tried to enter. It wasn’t just the sheer numbers but the fact that everyone wanted to clump in little groups to share news and gossip with friends they didn’t usually get to see on Sunday morning. And by the time I managed to escape to the parking lot, so had a lot of the departing Catholics, while late-arriving Episcopalians were cruising up and down the lanes, looking for vacant spaces that would have been a lot easier to create if the impatient new arrivals would stop blocking in the departing cars.

By the time I was finally out of the parking lot and on my way, I felt distinctly low on Christmas cheer. The words “Bah! Humbug!” kept trying to escape from my lips. Clearly I needed an attitude adjustment, so I turned on the radio and tuned in the Caerphilly College station.

Normally at this time of year KCAE radio was shorthanded because most of the student staff left for the holidays. The few who remained usually filled airtime with long, interrupted sequences of Christmas carols. My spirits rose at the prospect.