Every year when Advent looms on the horizon, after I have engulfed my fourth turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce, I start singing my favorite carols. Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Carol of the Bells, O Come, All Ye Faithful, and more begin to dance around my head. By week two of Advent, much to Pippen’s (my ½ Chihuahua ½ Italian Greyhound dog) and my family’s chagrin, I start singing with the gusto of the choirs of angels, as if the last trumpet had just sounded combined with the earnestness of Linus from the Peanuts’ special. I know I am mixing my liturgical seasons, but the heart sings how it sings!
By week three, I retell my children (by now the 26th time for Liz!) about our old family Christmas pageants. It was the first time I can remember singing Christmas carols. My three brothers and I were dressed in bathrobes, while marching and singing We Three Kings of Orient Are. We did this every year for our family but, on my seventh year in this world, we performed for all of my mother’s friends. It was excruciatingly embarrassing but, oddly enough, also a great deal of fun.
Though I will never admit it to my mother, I thank her for each and every Family Pageant! They helped all those Christmas hymns sink deeply into my soul and, now, they are a spiritual treasure that enlivens my heart toward the heavens every December.
About the Contributor
Tom Evans is the senior pastor of FPC. He also sings!