Today I listened to my first Christmas carol.
Not true. Not true at all. I’ve stuck around to listen to (read as, danced around the apartment to, several times over) All I Want For Christmas Is You. I’ve sat through Taylor Swift’s awful rendition of “Last Christmas.” (Sorry, Taylor, I just don’t think it’s your best work, or that it showcases your voice. Which, by the way, is lovely. Of course, sentiment-wise, I can see how it might have seemed like a fit for you. But alas, no. Just no.) I’ve Holly-Jolly Christmas’ed on the way to work and ok, yes, I’ve stopped to listen to the Little Drummer Boy all two times I’ve heard it on, because even though the rum-pum-pum-pums do little for me, Christmas just isn’t Christmas to me until it’s made me well up a time or two.
Indeed, Lord, I have no gift to bring that is fit to give you, my King.
Indeed, I have no good thing at all that You did not first give to me.
And of course, I’ve heard Christmas carols, basically since Halloween, as two of the 4 radio channels I can pick up clearly in my apartment went to all-holiday-music-all-the-time on November 1. Not to mention the background music in every store. But with the exception of the above, I haven’t so much been listening to them as ducking from them.
But today, I listened. I was ready, and it was lovely. It was Hark, The Herald Angels Sing! It was the whole thing, all three beautiful verses. It’s all beautiful, but I especially love the third verse… the Gospel present in the manger…
Hail the heav’n born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Son of Righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
Ris’n with healiing in His wings!
Mild He lay His glory by,
Born that men no more may die,
Born to raise the sons of earth,
Born to give them second birth,
Hark, the herald angels sing,
Glory to the newborn King!
OK. NOW, I am ready for it to be Christmas.
Kinda sorta. Still not sending Christmas cards. Still dithering about gifts. But… you know… on the INSIDE, where it counts, I feel much more ready.