Page 40 of A Little Bit More

Lorraine didn’t seem fazed by his lack of enthusiasm. “You are so much cooler than the last vicar. He would never have let us have sheep in the church.” She lowered her voice. “He was seriously old and crabby.”

David wasn’t entirely sure what to think of that either, other than the old vicar had managed to take care of the church for thirty years without it burning down. David would be lucky to make it to his three-month anniversary—which was at eight o’clock that evening.

“I’ll settle the crowd, and we’ll get started straight away,” he said.

She gave him a thumbs up.

With a flick of a switch, David turned on his mic and returned to face the congregation. “Merry Christmas,” he called. And was pleased when the congregation answered with their own greetings. “There’s been a change of plans. We’re going to head right into the play. But first, why don’t we put down our song sheets and keep them away from the flames while we watch?”

There was laughter and the sound of rustling paper.

“Take it away, Lorraine,” he said as he took a seat in the front row.

The lights snapped out, and the church fell into darkness, making him realize that the blinds had been dropped on all the windows. A low droning sound came out of the speakers before a voice reverberated through the room.

“It was the night before Christmas,” Lorraine said in a deep, dramatic voice. “Only no one knew it was Christmas because Christ hadn’t been born yet.”

Hearing a choking sound behind him, he glanced back to see Josh grinning widely. David’s shoulders slumped; this was going to be a whole lot worse than he’d imagined. He should have watched the dress rehearsal the day before, but he’d been too busy perfecting his first Invertary Christmas sermon. It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again—if he didn’t die in a blaze of fire.

“So,” Lorraine said, “it wasn’t really the night before Christmas. It was just another night…a magical night…full of wonder…and one big star.”

A spotlight snapped on above them. Illuminating a young boy dressed in a silver star costume and suspended from the ceiling by a rope on a pulley. As people gasped and the boy waved at his parents, David’s eyes were on the rope. Which was tethered to an oversized hook in the far wall. Had that hook always been there? Was the boy safe?

Dear God, had the kid been hanging above his head all this time?

“Shepherds were tending their sheep in a field, under the huge star,” Lorraine said.

Three kids popped up from inside the sheep pen. They were all dressed in bathrobes and wore tea towels on their heads. And yet again, David wondered if they’d been there all along.

“Hark,” a shepherd shouted. “I see a star up yonder.”

Strangled laughter came from behind David. Another glance in that direction told him that Josh had been joined by his friend Mitch, and both of them were trying to laugh quietly.

“That’s a very big star,” the shepherdess shouted. “It can’t be normal.”

“No,” the star yelled back. “I’m not normal.”

“A sheep peed on my feet,” the third shepherd wailed.

“Shut up,” snapped the first shepherd.

“I’m not a normal star,” the star called over the wailing. “I’m a messenger star.”

“Yes,” Lorraine said as the child with the pee-covered feet kept crying. “Long ago, before there was the internet, God spoke to lots of people at once through big stars that everyone could see.”

At a tap on his shoulder, David looked back to find Caroline. “The biblical teaching around here has been lacking for quite some time. Reverend Morrison usually spent his sermon time shouting at people who annoyed him.”

“Behold,” the star called. “There’s a baby coming to Bethlehem. Right now, he’s still inside his mum, but soon, he’ll be in a stable. You need to find the stable baby and tell everyone he’s really a king. Take him a sheep. You can’t go to see him empty-handed.”

The shepherds nodded at each other before one of them took hold of a sheep—wearing a collar and lead—and they all walked up the center aisle to the doors then down the aisle at the wall to get back to the front of the church. Meanwhile, the main doors crashed open, and a pantomime donkey trotted in. Beside the donkey walked Mary and Joseph.

“Shouldn’t Mary be on the donkey?” Josh whispered.

Obviously, Mary didn’t want to ride when she could show off her pregnancy walk. She waddled down the church, her hands on her belly, moaning as she went. “The baby’s coming,” she wailed. “It wants out. Argh, the pain. The pain! I need to lie down. I need a midwife. I need painkillers.”

As the congregation giggled, the front half of the donkey appeared to be trying to tap dance his way down the aisle.

“Behold,” Joseph shouted. “A big star. That must mean something.”