Christmas Eve Services

There are two services at the church where I direct choirs. The first one is family friendly and has special music provided by our accompanist and her son. I want to go, but I know if I do I will not have the energy to play for the second service - our accompanist and her son will not be able to stay for this second adult service. Besides, our choir sings at the second service. So I stay home to rest and only leave in time to practice for the second service.

It is a lovely service. True, some of our choir members are not able to join us, but for the first Christmas Eve service with the new pastor, it goes well. It is fairly well attended, lots of new faces to me. I am a bit nervous about playing the prelude and offertory, but Lourdes has loaned me a book of medium difficulty Christmas carols that I can easily play without too much practice and I am confident that I can manage. I think people were blessed.

Afterwards, I climb into the car and head home where Drew takes over the driving part. We go to his church for their 11 pm service. There is something mysterious and enticing about meeting so late at night, knowing the intention is to extend our time together until after midnight so we can wish each other Merry Christmas on Christmas Day. I love the liturgy, the readings, the carols, the company. Best part is that I don't have to lead anything and can really enjoy and enter in without thinking ahead to the next piece. How delicious to spend Christmas worship with friends and family. This is how it should be.

I find myself caught up in the candle light, thankful that no bombs are being dropped on this country, no threat of invasion looms here. We can feel peace and happiness, we can appreciate God's gift of life and light. Music surrounds me, lifts me up. I sit gratefully in a comfortable chair and remember pageants of past days, family gatherings, relatives long since gone to glory. I appreciate the company of the memories of loved ones, amused to find myself one of the grandparent generation now, able to remember people my children never met.

I smile at Drew. He is solicitous of my well being, grinning himself with happiness. He drives home. We are laughing and chatting and wishing each other Merry Christmas. He, of course, want to open a present, and I, of course, let him. It is a good year even if I won't be able to see my grandchildren. I will miss them. Perhaps next year when I am not so weak and tired and when I have a bit more funding, I will make it special for them. This year, I am just happy to be here with Drew and at peace.