I have been feeling anxious and low in recent weeks. Insomnia has left me worn out. So yesterday’s sunrise alpenglow on the snowy mountains at barn chores was a lovely trumpet blast of cheer.
Then on to church, early, for caroling. Somehow God finagled it so I found myself boxed between the former choir director and the church secretary, both of whom have gorgeous soprano voices.
I am not a good singer. I am a loud singer. As with most skilled endeavors, my enthusiasm trumps my ability. In my rough contralto I roar away, plugging the melody.
However so steady am I on the melody that talented singers nearby invariably soar off into harmonies. I cannot overstate the joy this gives me. My scalp lifts and tears come to my eyes. I’m constantly breaking off to hiss to these startled but patient people, “That is sooo beautiful!” Yesterday I simply felt wrapped in happiness.
The Christmas pageant was held during the service. Lots of adorable four-, five-, and six-year-olds in angels’ wings and shepherds’ cloaks. The idea was that each child would bring a treasure from home to present to the Christ child, symbolizing the gifts of the Three Kings and the concept that everyone has something to offer.
One after another, little voices quavered, “Baby Jesus, I’m giving you my stuffed bunny,” or “I’m bringing you my favorite necklace.” Each gift was laid carefully in the cradle. Then a tiny girl stepped forward and announced in an enormous voice that rolled to the back of the church, “Baby Jesus, I don’t have a present, but — I can teach you to ski!“