What Would Jesus Cha-Cha-Cha?

Lil E's co-op Christmas has arrived, in full and frenzied co-op style. With homemade ornaments masking-taped to the wall and a visit from Santa and a church full of kids in marabou-fringed holiday dresses and untucked oxford shirts.

As the kids made their way to the altar stage, wearing jingle bells at their wrists, the parents were waving from behind cameras.

I admit, I took a few pictures after all. I couldn't help it in the moment, with my boy smiling and singing and so engaged with the audience, and I took a few photos and a bit of video myself.  Not too many or too much, just enough to remind us all of happy he is with those other delicious kids and singing his heart out about Santa.

Of course, we cheered. And the kids hugged and ran back to their parents in the pews. When it was all over and every class had performed some version of some vaguely-recognizable holiday song, the director took the mic and reminded us that, without Jesus, there would be no Christmas.

And this is true. Then she asked that we all join in a round of "Happy Birthday, Jesus," just to mark the moment. With one long, introductory "Haaaaaaaaa...," all of the small children and parents and grandparents fell into the verse.

But because this is not just a Christian co-op but also one of those places where keeping kids engaged is a priority and where some traditions override any semblance of world outside the walls of the church where it is held, we sang a slightly modified version of Happy Birthday.

The one with the cha-cha-cha added to the end of every line.

I kid you not. As if it is not bizarre enough to sing a rousing birthday song to the King of Kings Host of Hosts Son of God, we added in seven or so cha-cha-chas for good measure.

I couldn't help it. I got the giggles.  When I did, I met my mom in barely-managed laughter, and then my dad, who was shaking his head at the whole scene.

In my family, we know the birthday Jesus song well. My dad's dad was Methodist minister and my grandmother once made a cake for my aunts...oh, and The Mighty Carpenter...that read:

Happy Birthday
Joy,
Shirley
and Baby Jesus

I am pretty sure it had red and green frosted flowers, maybe even sprinkles, on top. So we've hallelujahed in this way before and laughed about it then and many times since.

Still...still. Even with the chocolate cake with a Cool-Whip center, even with sharing icing space with my aunts and washing up the relish dishes and gravy boats before we could really dive into celebrating whatever big mark Jesus hit that year (heyyyyy, JC...1982 AGAIN, huh?!)  , when we sang Happy Birthday, it was at least with some reverence.  OK, maybe not reverence but at least without shoulder moves and hip shakes.

But that was then, back when the holiday pictures are full of a lovely mix of diverse shades of browns and golds and my cousin is wearing a Keep On Truckin' t-shirt for the big gift opening. It was back when everyone's hair flipped up and back somewhere and we all still said God in the Pledge at school and life was holy, people.

Apparently, it was back before Jesus entertained the idea of handing out goodie bags full of kazoos and Pop Rocks and temporary Sponge Bob in a Santa hat tattoos to all the kids who praise Him, play Hot Potato and hide and seek, eat cupcakes and hot dogs, sing The Song and then go home for naps and sugar crashes.

Today -- or at least last night in the fully-amped sanctuary full of tired kids and pipe cleaners -- Jesus was getting his birthday on, celebrating with the families and really giving into the Reason for the Season.

Maybe, just maybe, just like the children and the director and all of us giggling parents following behind, what Jesus would do is to lead us through the commercialism and chaos and co-op crazies in that chorus, all for Him.

All for Jesus. Cha-cha-cha.

Comments

[Sarah]

Jessica, you are damn funny--not to mention oh, so beautiful in your holiday red! xo