Some mornings five a.m. is as long as I can stay in bed. I have the soul of a 25 year old but the bladder of a 62 year old. Once that deep sleep is disturbed, there is nothing to do except get up. My mind slowly begins to function, and I can’t help but think of all there is to accomplish in the coming day. With conscious thought comes that wide awake state where I can lie there in bed only so long before I begin to squirm and stretch and by then, sleep is out of the question. So I am up.
What a beautiful Christmas eve we spent!
We had a Christmas eve service at church at five in the afternoon (early so families could come and then have the whole evening with each other afterwards). It was a brief service. We sang no hymns nor did we recite any liturgies. We simply came together to hear the Christmas story read by the pastor (my dh Jim) and then have communion. The church was decorated so beautifully, and this evening service just lent that special soft lighting of candles and tree lights which made everything special. During communion a trio of wonderful musicians played and sang: a pianist, a preteen violinist, and a vocalist. I was so touched, my tears started almost the moment my husband said his first words of welcome.
Sitting there amidst these most loving people I just began to weep. Not only the love and joy and unspoken embracing of a kinship of us all touched me, but the reason we were there. I’m not a very demonstrative person when it comes to my religion. I’m a private person with some things. My relationship with God is one of those things. I don’t often talk of it. I don’t often demonstrate it in more than quiet little ways. But I felt such a powerful one-ship with God and with all of those wonderful people all around me that I just wept from being so emotionally moved.
After communion and the dismissing with a blessing, the pastor (my husband of 42 years) moved among everyone with words of love and rejoicing and that special bonding of pastor and parishioners. The whole evening was so beautiful. And even the fact that he left his lapel mic open (forgot to turn it off) and stepped outside in front of the church to see everyone away to their homes… and his voice still echoed in the sanctuary with each word of farewell or soft teasing to a child about Santa or special words to someone who needed them… that only made those of us still exiting the sanctuary smile and chuckle. The feeling of family prevailed. For we are all of the same family. The family of God.
These thoughts are the ones that kept me from sleeping this morning. Nothing huge or no looming list of things to get done today. Just simple joy relived through thought… through remembrance.
May God bless you.
(As he has blessed me.)
3 responses so far ↓
Jen // December 31, 2007 at 12:45 am
Thank you for reminding me of this. I forget that I am part of a larger family and that family extends everywhere.
What a beautiful post.
Annie // January 4, 2008 at 2:54 am
Carol Ann, That’s a beautiful essay. I enjoyed reading it and remembering Christmas Eve at my daughter’s church. There we did sing carols and we did light candles and there were children portraying the creche scene. It was lovely and I sat in the audience feeling much as you describe yourself feeling.
Merry Christmas all year long to you and yours. And Happy New Year too.
Annie
Annie // January 13, 2008 at 8:09 pm
Just thought I’d pop back over to say good-bye for a few days. I’m sure I’ll be thinking of you as I sit and knit. I hope you do go to a quilter’s retreat someday soon - it is great amusement and one can’t help but learn a thing or two when off with a bunch of others who share a passion.
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