It was my 4th grade Christmas play. My classmates and I had been working on it since the beginning of school in September, and I could hardly wait till Christmas!
At long last, the day arrived. That morning, I was in the kitchen with my parents and, once again, asked them if they could come to see my play.
My mother said irritably, "Paula, it's Christmas week, and you know I have to work. Don't bother Daddy about it either; he has to do all the shopping and doesn't have time to come to your play!" My father just sat there in silence.
I was crestfallen, still not accustomed to their lack of interest and indifference to whatever went on in my life. I stifled my tears the best I could, knowing it would make them angry, and went to school a sad little girl, but still excited about the play.
We had made large candles out of construction paper, and were all dressed in white, wire hangers covered with white crepe paper and formed into "halos," feathery wings on our backs. At the conclusion of the play, we gathered at the front of the stage, then separated into two columns, leaving the stage from both sides, singing and walking up the side aisles to the entrance of the auditorium. At that point, we merged together and, holding our candles in front of us, walked down the center aisle, each column close to the auditorium seats, left and right. I knew that most of my classmates' parents were there, and tried hard not to cry.
As I reached the center of the aisle, something caught my eye. I looked over to see my father sitting there, smiling at me. I will never forget the sheer joy I felt that he had taken the time to be there for me. The earlier stifled tears flowed freely, and happily this time.
When I arrived home from school later that day, he teased me about the song "Joy To The World." Our teacher did not want a "ch" sound and instructed us to sing "And heaven and na-ture sing." We laughed about it, and he would remind me of it every single Christmas to come.
I don't remember if there were any more Christmas plays after that one. It didn't matter...because I will never forget how grateful I was that my father had made the effort to be there for me, putting aside his own hectic schedule to make time for his youngest daughter. The love I felt for him that day was overwhelming.
And to this day, I remember that Christmas play, and how loved my father made me feel.
