There is a beauty in Christmas music performances that transcends the music, the sets, even the participants and eventually makes its home in the hearts of the audience.It seems, that for the duration of the show at least, the role of critic is suspended and the role of cheerleader is assumed. Moms, dads, grandpas, grandmas, directors, teachers all smile. Nod. Affirm. Cheer. Believe.The missed notes, forgotten words, long pauses, fallen halos, disorderly sheep are overlooked. This is no longer the front of the church; we have arrived in Bethlehem. Those halos may be tinsel, but from here they look like real gold. The baby in the manger is a girl but somehow, for tonight anyway, she could be Jesus.As the maestro takes up the baton, the school’s auditorium becomes Carnegie Hall. This is not the H-BC fifth grade band performing Jingle Bells. This, this is the future of music in our little town. There are no critics here. These are our kids. And they are wonderful. The maestro bows, gesturing to the musicians who giggle and shrug. Moms, dads, grandpas, grandmas, directors, teachers all smile. Nod. Affirm. Cheer. Believe. The vocalists assume the stage. Sixth-grade girls, with the voices of angels sing about love and hope and families and friends. Sixth-grade boys present an entire program without ever moving their lips. But these are our boys and, darn it, they’re good at … football … so we smile. Nod. Affirm. Cheer. Believe. There is a beauty about leaving the role of critic at the door. Looking for what went right instead of correcting the mistakes and trying to improve the performer; just plain-old loving our kids and their efforts … just because. There is a beauty in Christmas music performances that transcends the music, the sets, even the participants and eventually makes its home in the hearts of the audience.Merry Christmas.
