It is the most wonderful time of the year, as Andy Williams sings on my favorite Christmas album of all time. And I do happen to believe that Jesus is the reason for the season.
 

To ensure that our three boys truly feel the impact of a holiday like Christmas, we try to be at the church as often as possible for all their choir concerts and mission events. I’ve grown to enjoy these holiday events much more, though, now that I’ve given up trying to secure a front-row seat for everything my kids do.
 

At our church, some parents will arrive at 4:30 for a 6 p.m. kid’s concert. I once tried to convince my mom to arrive two hours in advance and cover up a pew with spread-out coats. Then I realized she would have to fend off people who arrive 20 minutes early and don’t appreciate the fact that she’s saving nine seats by herself.
 

An unexpected bonus of not being on the front row is that I am privy to other endearing sights, such as the pride on the faces of friends when their own kid steps up to read a Bible verse to hundreds.
 

My youngest child may pay the price for my personal enlightenment with therapy, though, if he ever figures out that all his older brothers’ childhood videos were shot from the front row while his includes, well, the tops of people’s heads.
 

For us, this Advent anticipation culminates in the all-important Christmas Eve service.
 

I would prefer to attend the 11 p.m. service that ends at midnight with the entire sanctuary holding lit candles, but that late hour is just asking for little kids to jump to the naughty list an hour before Santa comes.
 

Last year was the first year we didn’t feel obligated to attend the “family service” at 2 p.m., which relieved a lot of holiday stress for me. That’s the service that has a baby-friendly format so all the kids can fidget and chatter to their heart’s content without enduring the evil eye of empty-nesters who aren’t grandparents yet.
 

Lots of grandparents do attend the family service, though I doubt any of the grandmas hear a word that’s said. See, even in this service everyone gets candles, which are lit and held aloft as the whole place sings “Silent Night.” It’s lovely. It’s inspirational, and it’s a nightmare for all grandmothers who cling to the old-fashioned notion that babies shouldn’t hold open flames.
 

Given all the manmade fibers and alcohol-based hair products in the sanctuary, I can’t believe I haven’t witnessed one flaming incident.           
 

For this year’s elementary choir concert, our church invested in a safety innovation for the hundred or so children singing at the altar: penlights.
 

From my cheap seat about halfway back, they looked just like candles, and no one had to worry about it being the most flammable time of the year.