Christmas Music

I don't know if it is true for everyone, but for me, there hasn't been one single favorite Christmas song for all my years. I remember when, in high school, "Silent Night" gave way to "O Holy Night." That one lasted for a long, long time, and then one year it became "It Came Upon a Midnight Clear." After we joined our church, I found "Of the Father's Love Begotten" to be tremendously moving, and it topped my list for several years.

And then it changed. It was Sherry's last year in college and, as I did each December, I left after lunch one day to drive out to the middle of Pennsylvania to bring her home for winter break. I so enjoyed that solitary drive out there, an easy drive with pleasant scenery, and the wonderful anticipation of the return trip with my best girl in the front seat next to me, sharing what her last weeks had been made of and what her hopes and plans for the weeks off would be. My classical radio station had just begun playing Christmas music and I knew I had about one hour of the two-plus hour trip to enjoy it before I'd lose the station. I had come to a stretch of highway with no other cars around to jockey position when the radio began to play the most beautiful rendition of "Once in Royal David's City," sung by a boys' choir. The slowness, the simplicity, the loveliness of the carol moved me so much. I didn't want it to come to an end. I've never heard that version again, but the carol -- one that isn't played all that often -- has become the one I will stop anything to listen to.

I heard the carol again yesterday. Again I was driving when it came on. And I pulled over, stopped my car, and just listened. I set aside my worries about the economy, my stress at work, and even my sadness for my newly widowed cousin, and traveled back in time to that trip to Gettysburg when I was filled with joy and anticipation as I listened to the sweet voices of those young boys. I remembered and I felt blessed.

It is the final week of Advent. I look forward to visits with siblings and cousins, to the logs in the fireplace, to being with my children and grandchildren, and to the Christ Child's being born/borne anew in me.

Once in royal David's city
stood a lowly cattle shed,
where a mother laid her baby
in a manger for his bed:
Mary was that mother mild,
Jesus Christ her little child.

He came down to earth from heaven,
who is God and Lord of all,
and his shelter was a stable,
and his cradle was a stall;
with the poor, the scorned, the lowly,
lived on earth our Savior holy.

And, through all his wondrous childhood,
he would honor and obey,
love and watch the lowly maiden
in whose gentle arms he lay:
Christian children all must be
mild, obedient, good as he.

For he is our childhood's pattern,
day by day like us he grew;
he was little, weak and helpless,
tears and smiles like us he knew.
and he feeleth for our sadness,
and he shareth in our gladness.

And our eyes at last shall see him,
through his own redeeming love;
for that Child who seemed so helpless
is our Lord in heaven above;
and he leads his children on
to the place where he is gone.

Not in that poor lowly stable,
with the oxen standing round,
we shall see him; but in heaven,
set at God's right hand on high;
when like stars his children crowned,
all in white shall wait around.