To those of you who get an ear-full every so often. Thanks for listening to me. I live my life with my mouth open and can't imagine how I'd survive without your ears. To those of you with whom I laugh, I hope we will always be able to find amusement in life.
To those of you who teach me music, thank you for your patience with my stubborn fingers and my brain that is slow to memorize.
To those of you with whom I sing, thanks for making music with me and for steering me in the right direction when I get totally off the track, either note-wise or with the order of things.
Some of the earliest Christmases I remember include singing. My grandfather had a grand piano in his living room. He didn't play but it was his dream to own a grand piano. My mother played Christmas carols and I sat beside her on the piano bench and sang. At later Christmases, after I joined the junior choir, I remember walking through the snowy night to the church carrying my choir gown which was white with a giant maroon bow. I thought it was the coolest thing ever. The junior choir led the processional from the basement, where we got organized, up the stairs and into the sanctuary. The processional hymn was always "Once in Royal David's City." There was no sermon on Christmas Eve. The minister's wife told a story instead. Later I learned that the minister's wife used to start looking for stories at the beginning of January. I don't remember any specific plot-line but there was a sense of magic that came to a climax with the dimming of the lights and the singing of "Silent Night."
When I was in grade 8 I had music vocal from Marilyn Perkins and singing became even more important to me. By that time there was quite a gap between what Marilyn was teaching us in school and what the choir leader at church was expecting. As soon as I could persuade my dad to let me, I stopped going to St. Matthew's United Church and began going to Scarboro United where Marilyn was the choir leader. I began attending the late service on Christmas Eve at Scarboro. It was a communion service and I have a strong image of my parents walking up the aisle to take communion standing side by side while I watched from the choir. By that time things were pretty chilly between them but for that moment the chill was gone.
When I worked in Banff I missed a year of singing in the church choir but I drove home Christmas Eve before nightfall and was in the pew for the late service. I was in the pews rather than the choir loft on one other Christmas Eve when I had such a bad cold I could hardly talk.
Since Richard and I have been married, we have always been in the choir loft on Christmas Eve. When we have traveled at Christmas, which hasn't been often, we have chosen to fly on Christmas Day rather than miss the late service. In a few hours we will, once again, sit in the loft and sing and, as I look out at the families who have come together tonight, I will think of my friends and family: those I see often, those I see seldom, those whom I have rediscovered after many years, those who have known me for decades, those who have become friends more recently and those who are here in body no longer. I will think of Marilyn who gave the gift of music to so many, and of my mother who played the piano all those years ago. I will think of the Jorgensens' where, for many Christmases, we sang carols around the piano. And I will think of each of you who give me the gifts of music, laughter and friendship throughout the year.
So on this night, please know that my life is rich with the gifts you give and for that I am grateful. May peace be with you. Shalom. Namaste. As-salamu alaykum.
