Though not a virgin, I play one in this year’s Nativity pageant at my niece’s school. (Anonymity requested, and my pleasure to grant their Christmas wish – along with YOURS!)





Those of us gifted and blessed enough to have played upon the boards or before the cameras know how a role can take you over and call up latent facets of yourself perhaps forgotten or neglected.



Such is the case with my current portrayal of the Virgin Mary for my niece’s school.


You think I’m joking. I know. “No way in hell is Norma Bates the Virgin Mary in some grade school Christmas pageant.” I know.



You’ve stopped believing in miracles, Razorbabies. Here’s what you don’t know.


I regularly visit the schools to read to students or teach them origami or interpretive dance or Pilates or share any of the other many gifts I’ve been given with those who are younger and dumber. (A side of myself I keep private.)


I was delighted, but not surprised, when told the students had unanimously voted for me to portray their Virgin this year. They love me and I love them.


I just hadn’t counted on the role taking over. But that’s always the way with great talent. Yield your instrument.


During rehearsals I’ve connected deeply with my inner virgin – and beyond that with the Virgin of the World. That pure and innocent Love at the Big Bang of Creation, to coin a phrase. THAT’S what I radiate onstage. THAT’S my center and my arc: the overwhelming power of God’s Total Love!



And I’m doing all this without drugs of any kind because it’s like this school and all these kids and parents and teachers running around and stuff.



That’s my Christmas Miracle I want to share, Razorbabies. Portraying the Holy Mother for my niece’s school has lit the lights of Love everywhere inside me, even rooms whose lights I’d extinguished and closed their doors.


Yes, Razorbabies, it IS a Christmas Miracle. You don’t even have to tell me because I know you feel it right now in your life too.


December 25, whatever you know about it, or think you know, whatever you call it, however far back you go, is the Birthday of the World. Truth.


It’s universal, collective; as significant a birthday globally as your individual birthday is in your hometown.


No coincidence then, Razorbabies, that I stand onstage in the final Nativity tableau before an auditorium of parents, teachers and relatives, three days before Christmas, surrounded by adoring children costumed as ancient Palestinian urchins, cradling a rubber doll in swaddling clothes while the Mormon Tabernacle Choir sings the “Hallelujah Chorus” (on CD) . . . because never have I known such love. I truly live the feeling every performance.


This was meant to Be.



If you were I (I know you’re not, but imagine) . . . you’d be moved to feel the Christmas spirit too . . . and wish all your fellow Razorbabies and trolls a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year . . .  as do I.


Believe in miracles.


With ALL my love –



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