Brush drawing, "Mother and Child"

Every December our church and some generous volunteers, put on an unconventional nativity titled "A Walk through Bethlehem.". The characters are asked to read the Christmas story as found in Matthew, and a script suggesting possible action and dialogue, and then they improvise before a live audience. You never know what the characters will say on any given evening. You never know how the touring audience of 10-15 people per group will react.

A hunched over beggar stands outside Bethlehem's walls. He asks for mercy and pleads for shekels. This year an adorable guest asked her father for money and then skipped over to drop it in the beggar's bag. Another child attending for the third year had brought a gift for the baby Jesus. The child approached the stable, tiptoed up to the manger, and wished the baby Jesus "Happy birthday." He kissed the babe's head, and placed his gift beside the swaddling clothes.

My first year as a volunteer, I played an innkeeper. My job was simply to complain that Bethlehem was brimming with people who were there to pay taxes, and that I had no room for anyone, especially these new visitors. After all, I had just turned away a mother with child, riding on a donkey.

That first year, I thought the presentation was a bit "hokey." A little too informal for my taste. After all, I had been involved in a real pageant with a cast of hundreds, and professional actors and directors. Surely, this little play by a local church could have no impact or make no impression on the community. But I was oh so wrong.

This year I was a greeter; able to listen and observe the adults and children who walked through the grass, past the wooden props of sheep and donkeys, past the wooden scenery that I had helped to paint a few years earlier. I saw the wonderment in the eyes of the children. I heard adults express their gratitude at how much they looked forward to their "Walk through Bethlehem" each year, how it renewed them and prepared them to celebrate the birth of their Savior. And I felt the spirit that can only come in a simple stable, with simple people who in humility welcome the birth of God's Son.

Merry Christmas everyone -- and Happy Holidays!

"Mother and Child" is a monochromatic brush drawing using Burnt Umber Oil on a 12x16 panel. The painting is available for sale at $249 including postage; giclees, prints, or cards are available at:
http://carol-allen-anfinsen.fineartamerica.com

Whistle for me

My mother could whistle better than any guy, and long before it was fashionable. She even whistled through her teeth while playing softball on a young women’s team (unheard of). Later, she “whistled while she worked” around our house.

I thought of her today when a meadowlark serenaded me from a nearby field. It was the eastern variety; its song shorter than the western meadowlark my mother imitated.

“I am a pretty little bird,” she said in a singsong voice, followed by a perfect whistle rendition of a meadowlark’s song. She could mimic all of the local birds with a whistle that was sweet and clear, even on the highest notes. She had a beautiful singing voice as well, and used her talents in the church choir and to sing us lullabies before we went to sleep.

One night my girl friend stayed over and heard my mother singing in the kitchen. I squirmed with embarrassment. When my friend remarked that my mother had a beautiful voice, my fears melted away. I never appreciated until that moment how lucky I was to have a mother who could sing and whistle for us.

I heard a meadowlark today, and thought of my mother.