This year I volunteered at the Healaugh Nativity for the first time, not quite knowing what to expect. I did know there would be a real donkey, horses and goats, so I was already anticipating something special, but I don’t think I quite realised how memorable it would be.
Around forty children took part, ranging from a few months old (a tiny baby Jesus) right through to adults. The live band was wonderful and added so much atmosphere. The stable yard itself was a perfect setting, with a fire placed in the centre casting a warm glow as darkness fell. The staged seating and professional sound system meant that, despite being outdoors, everything felt calm, organised and thoughtfully done.
The audience gathered around the edges of the yard as the story began. Mary arrived first and was greeted by the angel before making her way into the stable. Later, the shepherds appeared on the hillside with their goats who, unsurprisingly, had minds of their own and did pretty much whatever they wanted, with the shepherds chasing after them and doing their best to keep up. One of the goats was due to give birth on Christmas Day, so we were quietly grateful there were no unexpected early arrivals during the performance.
My role was to look after eight very excited angels waiting just behind the gate. Keeping them quiet enough so they couldn’t be heard from the stable yard was quite a challenge, and so was keeping their white gowns clean as we waited in the gardens. They were full of anticipation, whispering and wriggling, and it felt like holding a bubble of excitement. I never actually got to see the Nativity from the audience’s point of view, as I stayed firmly behind the scenes, but it was a real delight to experience it from backstage and to witness the story unfolding in small, hidden moments.
I couldn’t see the angels when they finally went through the gate, but I did hear the audible gasp from the audience as they burst onto the hillside to announce the good news to the shepherds. In that moment, the familiar words from Luke felt very close and real:
"Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people." (Luke 2:10)
Once the angels had played their part, I led them carefully around the back, through the donkey’s field and into the stable where Mary and Joseph, and baby Jesus, were waiting. The audience outside couldn’t see what was happening, but they could hear the buzz of excitement and the gentle cry of the baby. It felt like a quiet, sacred pause, hidden from view, yet full of life and meaning. It brought to mind the words,
"She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger" (Luke 2:7), simple and unassuming, yet at the very heart of the story.
At the end of the performance, the stable doors were opened and the audience was invited in. It was a real wow moment as people stepped forward and discovered the cosy scene inside. Parents took photos, children scanned the crowd until they spotted familiar faces, and there was a gentle hum of joy and pride filling the space.
Afterwards, I led the children up into the loft to get changed. Once they were ready, they went back into the stable yard to meet their families, who were enjoying mince pies and mulled wine. The evening ended as warmly as it had begun, with conversation, laughter, and a sense of having shared something special together.
For me, volunteering for the first time was both slightly daunting and quietly rewarding. I arrived unsure of my place in it all, but quickly found myself absorbed in the small, practical moments: calming excited angels, wiping muddy hems, whispering reminders to stay quiet. I may not have seen the Nativity from the audience’s view, but I felt very much part of it. Being there behind the scenes, sharing in the children’s excitement and helping the story unfold, felt like a quiet privilege, and a reminder that God often works in the ordinary, unnoticed places, just as He did that first night in the stable.
With best wishes for a peaceful and joyful New Year,
Wendy Wilson