Lessons and Carols

For the first time in seven years or so, I managed to make it back to my elementary/middle school for Lessons and Carols, the annual event of singing, reading, and much Anglican pomp. It's always well done - the kids prepare months in advance, and the Ensemble is excellent (if I do say so, being an alumna and all). Today's program was no different; the choirs sang well, the recorder ensemble kept it in tune, and the kindergartners yawned and waved to their mothers, who pushed into the aisles to see the little darlings.

I sat beside the grandmother of a third grader, who had made it to the program for the first time. I managed to keep from chuckling during the kindergartners' "Baby Jesus", which comes complete with hand motions, and smiled at the grandmother. "They do that one almost every year," I explained.
"Did you?" she asked.
I ran the numbers. "Yes, about twenty years ago."

Before I headed down today, I realized that the current crop of eighth graders were three when I graduated - for the first time, there was no way any of the kids at Advent could have remembered me. Mine was the class of '98, scarily enough. I didn't go down for "O Holy Night", as there appeared to be no other alumni in attendance, but I managed to make it to the front of the church to say hello to Mr. Phillips, the choirmaster, before he left.

Seldom have I seen anyone's jaw drop like his did. It was terrific seeing him again, though sobering to realize that his older daughter, at whose christening I sang as a ten-year-old, is now 14. After some hugs and a few more hellos, I headed for the office to see my old headmistress.

"Is Mrs. Battles in?" I asked the receptionist.
I remembered her, but she gave me a suspicious look. "She's with someone. Can I help you?"
"Uh...no, that's alright. I'm an old alum, I just wanted to say hi..."
By this time, a few of the office ladies had moved into earshot. "What's your name?" the receptionist asked.
"Lauren Simpson."
"NO!"

What followed was two minutes of greetings, exclamations about how I'd grown up, and a wedding ring check by the headmistress. "We wanted a baby!" she protested. "Is there a serious boyfriend?"

I had to let her down gently. And now, for the rest of the day, I'm going to be hearing a soft chorus of "Baby Jesus, baby Jesus..."