So I missed Days 19 and 20 of my 31 Days of Holiday Hooligans, but I have a good reason! I was taking pictures of some hairy holiday hooligans to share with you today. 😉
This weekend I went to a local church to see their production of Langston Hughes’ Black Nativity. The play was fantastic. I loved the costumes, the African dancing, the musical numbers, and of course the story at the center, the birth of the wonderful baby Jesus Christ.
Afterwards, the pastor invited everyone to check out their live nativity scene on the front lawn. Unfortunately, Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus hadn’t quite made it yet, but the animals were there, and they were giving us all a hoot. Especially that camel! He was taking selfies, sniffing the children’s heads, singing Christmas carols with that low “growl” from the back of his throat (what sound do camels make?). He was the true holiday hooligan this weekend!
The sheep are ready to see the Lamb of God!
The goats are particularly looking well-groomed for their part in the live nativity scene!
Eeyore and company traveled all the way from the Hundred Acre Wood to see baby Jesus.
“Can I take a bite out of your glove? I need a full stomach so I won’t eat the hay in the manger.”
“I’m ready for my close-up, baby Jesus.”
Pat and Lynn stood outside of the chapel underneath the sycamore tree, the alabaster branches radiating in the sunlight as if covered in snow.
“I hate this church. Why do you insist on coming here? There’s not a woman in the congregation the Bishop hasn’t slept with,” Lynn said, picking at the bark. She held her Bible at her side, the leather cover still firm as if she’d just plucked it from a store shelf.
“He hasn’t slept with you,” Pat said, winking. He switched his tattered Bible to the other hand and pulled her into him, kissing her forehead. “Today?” He whispered.
“Not to that sleaze ball?”
“You’re asking Jesus to be your Lord, not Bishop Reynolds.”
“If he’s supposed to represent Jesus, I ain’t interested.” She shrugged and walked inside.
The sanctuary was half-empty, occupied only by the Bishop, who wiped his forehead and neck with his handkerchief, and his former mistresses, who shuffled about in their pews anxiously.
“What’s going on?” she asked, but Pat was no longer behind her.
word count: 173
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