I must admit I am struggling this Advent. It is not the season itself. I am enjoying the Advent devotions and am
reading some of my favorite seasonal books.
One tradition I have is reading again Walter Wangerin’s account of
Christ’s birth in The Book of God. He
is a gifted writer and I so much appreciate the “human” aspects of his
account. I am also enjoying for the first
time Gordon Giles O Come Emmanuel devotional book that focuses on the
hymns and carols of the season.
Our tree is up and the magi have begun their annual trek
through the house. Our tradition is they
do not arrive in the manger until Epiphany.
We have even attempted to make this year special by breaking out some of
the decorations we have not used in years.
Outside the lights are up and the luminaria are lit each night making a
path for the Christ Child to come to our home and hearts. My favorite Christmas CD’s are playing while
I write and I have Pandora playing the Michael W. Smith Christmas station when
I am in my car.
I guess the reality of this Christmas season hit home last
Monday. I met with our daughter, Katie
Seale, to record my part for the virtual choir for Christmas Eve. Katie serves as music director at our church,
Prince of Peace Lutheran Church in Carrollton, TX. Usually, I am surrounded by friends and we
prepare for the Christmas Eve service. This
time it was just me, a microphone, computer screen and a virtual
conductor. I left realizing how much I
miss the lack of fellowship this Christmas season.
This year Barb and I will attend the 4:30 outdoor Christmas
Eve service. We will sit in our car and
listen on the car radio. I am sure we
will wave at a few familiar faces.
Somehow singing Joy to the World and Silent Night in that setting comes
up a little lacking. The gift of the
Christ Child still has the same impact on my faith. It is just hard to sing shouts of praise when
you are wearing a mask.
I guess the secondary ‘good news” is that there is hope on
the horizon. Hopefully with a vaccine,
we are able to get the pandemic under control. Perhaps next Christmas we will at least be
able to safely gather again. Maybe even
the choir might return in person instead of appearing on a screen looking a
little like the opening to The Brady Bunch.
At least I have singing in the heavenly choir to look forward to. There will be no mask in heaven, only eternal
praise.
