It was a Plan B Christmas moment. And an emotional one. Our church staff and spouses gathered around the piano singing Christmas carols.
I was transported back to my childhood when every year we had the tradition of gathering at my aunt and uncle’s house with relatives young and old. After dinner at the looooong table stretched with many leaves and augmented with card tables attached, we’d move to the piano.
Today, at least four people are missing from this picture including my brother. Maybe your pictures are missing some people this year too. It’s a Plan B Christmas.
Now here’s the thing. I come from a musical family. We had cousins and uncles playing french horn, trumpet, trombone. My grandfather played the violin. Aunts and cousins played the piano. I think for a few years there was a flute thrown in. Maybe an oboe.
I had nothing to add but my barely adequate voice added to those who were able to actually, you know… harmonize. (That’s me in the middle back in holiday pigtails 🙂 )
But I didn’t need a song sheet. I know virtually every word of every carol in the book. (Yes, even Angels From the Realms of Glory). The Christmas lyrics are part of my faith vocabulary, because my family sang them over me, and into me, and with me.
When we’re tempted to get caught up in our Plan B story, Christmas lyrics remind us of THE Story – the bigger one we’re a part of. Continue reading
