Saturday, Dec. 18, 2004 1103365030
A Christmas Moment
Or Two…
The hostess led us back to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Immediately I noticed that we were being seated adjacent to a long table surrounded by a large party of people.
“Could we please be seated a bit further away from the large group of people?” I asked. And we were ushered down the isle to another seating where my friend and I could carry on an intimate conversation without having to shout across the table.
The atmosphere felt familiar and I lost all thoughts and awareness of it being a special time of year. Then I saw the group of celebrating people coming down the isle toward the exit. Their “party’ obviously had been a success. They fairly danced in a queue down the isle to the front entrance; big smiles splashed across their faces. Then I caught sight of him. One celebrant midway in the line, with a bouncing Santa hat perched jauntily on his head. As he jogged along, the hat’s tassel flagged my attention.
It was at that moment, I caught it. The Christmas Spirit. As an unseen…or at least unnoticed observer - I caught it.
I saw the joy of Christmas in all their faces. For a brief moment it felt as though everything around me was celebrating and beaming with the feeling of the holiday. It was a party.
For a moment.
We were seated in a “mega church” filled with a crowd enjoying a presentation of the annual Christmas “Night of Songs”. The performances were polished and professionally executed. The program flowed flawlessly, capturing my unwavering attention.
Then a chord was struck. Not a musical chord. A chord of nostalgic memory. A strong pure voice began to carol the strains of “Gesu Bambino.” And I was in another auditorium…in another time.
I was one of a group of twenty or thirty young girls about seventeen years of age. We were on another stage. In another part of the country. But we were singing the same song.
“When blossoms flowered 'mid the snows upon a winter night…”
Each young lady wore identically styled dresses of either a pale yellow or frosty green fabric that flared out from a princess bodice and waistline. Each had a matching ribbon chocker at her throat. And each stood with her eyes locked onto the face and hands of the choral director.
“Was born the Child the Christmas Rose, The King of Love and Light”…
We too, had been practicing our performance for months. We began learning the songs for the Christmas programs (of which there were always several)…as soon as school opened in the fall. By December, they were perfect.
The melody was carried by the soprano section. I sang alto.
“The angels sang, the shepherds sang, The grateful earth rejoiced.
And at His blessed birth the stars Their exultation voiced.”
Tonight as the soloist carried the melody, I heard the alto harmony rise up inside. It was all still there. My voice was silent, but my heart sang right along with the performer. I was back on stage in my yellow dress surrounded by the strains of “Gesu Bambino”.
But only for a moment.
I want to share with you the verse and photo on my Christmas card this year.
“I wish I could be “up close and personal” to wish you a Merry Christmas.
But this is the best I can manage.
I’m looking through the window...
...wishing you all the blessings of the season,
now and in the New Year.”
Thanks for reading!
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Text © copyright 2003 - 2008 The Homespun Philosopher
2008