I just finished wrapping a couple of gifts for my parents. Of course they told me and my sister (as they say every year) not to buy them any gifts, but we can't accept that command. It only seems right that each of the four of us have something to open at Christmas. If they decided to cease gift-giving to us, then yes, I would be fine with simply enjoying a day together as a family. Mom seriously considered a no-presents policy in a recent Christmas past, but she can't help herself. She is one of those people who loves to give, especially to her children. So once again, we will have another Christmas with a couple of gifts each, including the parents. Every Christmas for 23 years I awakened Christmas morning and then opened gifts, but this year we are exchanging gifts on Christmas Eve so that we can spend Christmas morning cooking a nice breakfast. It figures that in our family we would change a tradition because of food...
Mom and I had the privilege of singing in a Christmas cantata this week at a little old renovated church in a teeny-tiny town in Maryland. The bulk of my choir experience was in college, and I have not attended a church with a choir since childhood. I forgot the rush that comes from standing in a group of singers and hearing a bunch of voices blending together. In that little church with the hardwood floor and wooden benches, the choir's final medley ended with a stanza of the "Hallelujah Chorus." Attendees stood up as we sang,
King of kings.... hallelujah, hallelujah!
and Lord of Lords.... hallelujah, hallelujah!
and it was all I could do to keep the smile that broke out on my face from turning into laughter. That chorus is surely gonna be sung in heaven. Handel had to be divinely inspired when he wrote it... it's too beautiful.
It is a pleasure to do all sorts of reconnecting while home. Yesterday my high school celebrated its first-ever alumni reunion. I was in the third class the school graduated, so my table was the oldest there.... a very weird feeling! How fun it was for us to reminisce and talk to some of our teachers. I was surprised to see my former English teacher there, Mr. Scott - a humble, God-fearing man, loved by all - who fought in Vietnam and inspired my writing in high school. His heart is giving him trouble. He recently underwent a major open-heart surgery and slipped into a life-threatening coma. The surgeon told his wife that he had no hope other than prayers. So she got people to pray, and there he was yesterday, a real, walking miracle. With so much heartache and suffering in the news, it is nice to remember that miracles are still happening, too.
We remember the miracle of Jesus' birth during this time of year. How difficult it was for Mary to endure the condescending stares of her neighbors and for Joseph to commit himself to a woman seemingly unfaithful, carrying a child not his own. That took some major faith.
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