Well, another Christmas has come and gone. All our travelers and last minute purchases arrived on cue, including nine Amazon packages delivered all together in one giant sack — just like Santa.
All my pictures are blurry. At first it was due to general sleepiness. We aren’t perky in the morning.
Then laughter set in.
I hit my steadiness peak around sherry time,
but did not manage to produce anything remotely in focus after that. Draw whatever conclusions you will, but we were actually quite civilized.
A long time ago when I was in second or third grade, I had to sing a solo of “Bring a torch Jennette Isabella” in the school Christmas pageant. I only got picked because I had the appropriate attire, a peasant-looking dark green corduroy jumper, which also happened to be my favorite dress, although by then it was a little on the small side. I was very nervous and my voice quavered, but I got through my performance.
I like the mini angels in the 1515 triptych
What I remember most about that event was another song we sang, one that I’d never heard before but loved so much that I sang it over and over until I had the tune memorized. Unfortunately, I didn’t remember the title or most of the words. Every Christmas since then I’ve searched without success for a song about angels standing at His feet and the wise men casting down their royal crowns. Until last week, that is. Thanks to some clever googling, I discovered that the song, called “Jesus, the Christ, is born” is an Appalachian carol, first recorded in Sevier County Tennessee in 1934 (source). Here are the words:
Jesus the Christ is born, Give thanks now, every one. Rejoice, ye great ones and ye small, God’s will, it has been done.
Ye mighty kings of earth, Before the manger bed, Cast down, cast down your golden crown From off your royal head.
For in this lowly guise The son of God do sleep, And see the Queen of Heaven kneel, Her faithful vigil keep.
Two angels at His head, Two angels at His feet Beside His bed the flower red, Perfuming there so sweet.
Jesus the Christ is born, Give thanks now, every one. Rejoice, ye great ones and ye small, God’s will, hit has been done.
I found a couple of recordings on youtube, but the best one by far is this one of the Anne Philips Singers c. 1960.
One more mystery solved. Now if I could just figure out some of the more obscure genealogical conundrums…
Today is the birthday of my dear dual personality! I wish her peace on earth, good health and tickets to the Star Wars movie!
Ha ha.
They say the movie is worth seeing, but I say ho hum.
I can wait. A long time.
Anyway, to get back to my sister’s birthday, we are having a little party tonight for some of daughter #2’s friends who are in town for a wedding. But I will be thinking of my dual personality and wishing she were here laughing it up with me.
Dual personalities festively attired in red and green circa 1983
I’ll be toasting her and sending my love.
In other news: daughter #1 arrives on Saturday! Hope she bundles up for the trip home!
Tree’s up! The boy came over Tuesday night and we put up the tree. Doesn’t it look nice?
The OM got creative and put a collage of his favorite bears and scouts on his Facebook page. I couldn’t figure out how to recreate the snazzy moving images here, but here are the photos.
Well, I am very glad to have this major holiday feat accomplished.
And daughter #2 made it home! Shortly after arriving, she rearranged some of the ornaments on the tree. Can’t wait for daughter #1 to add the finishing touch on Saturday!
Yes, it is less than ten days until Christmas, but all will be well.
All will be wonderful.
Maybe not perfect…but perfection, I think, is highly overrated.
Juriaen van Streeck, Northampton Museums & Art Gallery
Make yourself a cup of tea (or coffee) and take a few minutes to sit by the window and think.
“Woman Sitting by the Window” by Pablo Picasso
Think about those Christmases of long ago.
“Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel, before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback, it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: “It snowed last year, too. I made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother down and then we had tea.”**
Feel better now? This is how my brain works.
Have a great Wednesday. Daughter #2 is flying in from the east coast today. Tra la, tra la.
*From How to Be Topp by Geoffrey Willans
**From A Child’s Christmas in Wales by Dylan Thomas
I did a very brave thing this weekend. I took an eighth grader out to lunch. Yes, as a confirmation mentor, it was time to go to a confirmation class again on Sunday before church. So I asked my mentee to go to lunch after church.
Being in the class threw me into a time warp. I remembered so vividly what it was like to be in eighth grade again. The awkwardness. The resistance to participating in the proceedings. OMG, what fresh hell is this?
Not that we had mentors back in the day. It is a good idea and a bad idea at the same time, you know? All that awkwardness made public. Ugh. Daughter #2 assures me that, although it is awkward now, it is a good thing in the long run. The kids will learn something about talking to people other than their peers and will probably look back on it fondly in the future. I think she’s just being nice.
We had a guest in the class–a man with MS, a surgeon who can no longer practice, who talked about his life. Afterwards when we were discussing his visit, I told the class that Rudy had just explained one of the secrets of life to them and I hoped they were paying attention. Live in the day. He also reminded us that the Plan is His and not ours. Be grateful for what you have, because it can change. Be grateful for the change too.
We also watched this video:
I had to give credit to the teacher–it’s a good song, even if the kids had no idea who Steve Earle is. Anyway, I said the revolution starts in your own backyard. Just be nice to the fat girl on the school bus. Be nice. As old Fred Buechner said, if you want to be holy, be kind.
I have a feeling that everyone involved in this Sunday morning activity was uncomfortable, and I guess that’s the point. For me anyway. It is a good thing to push oneself out of what we used to call “our comfort zone.”
Even if it is just having lunch with an eighth grader.
“You know what I’ve always thought? I’ve always thought a body would have to be sick and dying before they saw the Lord. And I imagined that when He came it would be like looking at the Baptist window: pretty as colored glass with the sun pouring through, such a shine you don’t know it’s getting dark.
Tiffany window 1st Baptist Church, Selma, Alabama
And it’s been a comfort: to think of that shine taking away all the spooky feeling. But I’ll wager it never happens. I’ll wager at the very end a body realizes the Lord has already shown Himself. That things as they are, just what they’ve always seen, was seeing Him.
As for me, I could leave the world with today in my eyes.” (Truman Capote, “A Christmas Memory”)
You can watch the whole, Emmy-award-winning TV version here, although the quality isn’t very good.
I remember watching it way back when, and being deeply affected. It’s just the thing to remind us that Christmas doesn’t require a lot of bells, whistles, and fancy presents. All I really want is for my boys to come home safely and fill the house with their irrepressible presence (talk, laughter, music, movies, Nerf battles, Lego creations, computer games, culinary endeavors, and endless mugs of tea). Later today the first traveler will arrive home, and tomorrow, if he isn’t too jet-lagged, we will decorate our tree.
As you know, I sometimes usually listen to a Christian radio station driving into work in the morning. They are playing a lot of Christmas music now and here’s a new one that I like, which is loosely based on the famous poem written by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow in 1863. (It takes a lot of liberties.)
Here’s the poem. It’s rather timely I think.
I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.
I thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along th’unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.
And in despair I bowed my head:
‘There is no peace on earth, ‘ I said
‘For hate is strong, and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.’
Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail,
With peace on earth, good will to men.’
Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day
A voice, a chime, a chant sublime,
Of peace on earth, good will to men.
Here’s a version of the older arrangement by the Civil Wars–I like it, although it’s a little breathy for my taste.
And here’s the version I remember from a Christmas record we had when I was a child.
Did you listen to them all? Which one did you like best?
