Trust the Angel

A poem about why it's okay if you forget your lines

Image from Buildfaith.org

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Christmas pageants tend to rely on improvisation and loud prompts from offstage. Unless a particular sort of angel suits up for the show.

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CHRISTMAS PAGEANT                                                               2014


“Mommy, I know this part. I know all the parts.”
	 - Five-year-old performer, too frequently prompted


Tidings of joy: the show can go on.
The angel knows all the parts.

If the shepherds forget to be astonished
or the sheep forget to bleat and graze,
the angel will cue them.

If the star forgets to shine
or the wise men forget to adore,
the angel is ready to prompt.

In a pinch, if the baby forgets
to wake and refrain from crying,
the angel could fold her wings tight

and slip inside the swaddling clothes
and play that part too, leaving the glorias
to the rest of the heavenly host.

It is one reason that Mary and Joseph
look so peaceful as they sit there mute
behind the manger, a pageant flowing around them.

They know they can trust the angel.
The angel knows all the parts.

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At my church, each year’s Christmas pageant is an occasion for earnest, happy chaos. One year the star turn was a very small sheep who was directed to lie down next to the manger, and took the opportunity to practice a series of wiggly floor calisthenics. Another year it was the ultra-confident angel whose rebuke to her stage mom inspired this poem.

It comforts me to know that, like a pageant, Christmas shows up every year and invites us into its story, whether or not we’ve learned our lines. Every year, it’s chaos. Every year, there’s an angel. Every year, somehow, the story gets told.