Thirty years ago I was told Barbara Robinson's story about the "best Christmas pageant ever." Its story takes place in what could be any church, in any town in America where the story of Christmas is told through the innocence of children. Much like our competition that took place last week, this competition was surrounded by tradition and expectation. Everyone knew who would run it, because the same woman had run the pageant for thirty years. Each child knew who would play the lead roles well before the auditions. And, like all other religious contests across America, this contest was supposed to run like clockwork, with no surprises. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get the original essay That was until the director fell and broke her leg and the Herdman kids showed up the week the auditions were announced and, for some strange reason, decided they wanted to be in the room. Now, there was nothing wrong with the Herdman children, just that there were a lot of them and they weren't exactly the kids you would expect to see at the Christmas pageant. They were dirty and disheveled, not exactly well behaved and basically tough as nails. All the kids in town were afraid of the Herdmans. So when the Herdman children decided they wanted to be part of the competition and be the main protagonists, none of the other children fought. So the older sister played the angel Gabriel, the brothers played the three wise men, and the youngest and toughest of all, Gladys, played the Virgin Mary. On the night of the show, the Herdman children independently decided to add their own twist to the show. Christmas story. Instead of the angel Gabriel greeting the shepherds with "do not be afraid", they were greeted with Hey You!, instead of the wise men bringing the baby Jesus gold, incense and myrrh, they brought Jesus what they felt were more appropriate gifts, toys and the family's Christmas ham. And Mary, well, instead of looking all clean, innocent and pure, she was dirty and disheveled with her veil crooked. When the shepherds arrived, she held her newborn tightly, protecting him from anyone who dared take him away. As Barbara Robinson recounts, there was no doubt among the children and most of the congregation that the Herdmans had spoiled the Christmas pageant, until the narrator found Gladys in the corner watching attentively an image of the Virgin Mary, tears flowing. on her cheeks as she declares, “This is what she should look like.” No, the narrator observes, not as in the picture, but rather as Gladys, for that is where God has chosen to enter the world. Very often, when we choose to enter the darkness of Christmas Eve on our way to church, or even Sunday morning, we come full of expectations, hoping to part ways in some way. or another of the chaos of the world in which we live. To find ourselves, at least for a few moments, able to escape the grief that can be so deeply a part of our lives. or to find a moment to stop and catch your breath in the midst of the frenetic rhythm that life imposes on us. Often we think that if we can put our lives on hold, we can get a glimpse of the Almighty. On Christmas Eve, we try to enter an ideal world where a mother kneels peacefully next to her sleeping newborn while we pray that our lives will also be serene and peaceful. Only to realize that our lives, or even life itself, will never be as.